The how and the why of it

Ruth and Laura reflect on where this all began

Coming to writing

(with thanks to Hélène Cixous for the subheading)

In some ways, Ruth and I are two very different kinds of writers, at least when it comes to our origin stories. She came into the world already bit by what she calls the writing bug, whereas I started much later, when my life was falling apart and filling all those journals was the only thing keeping me together. Still, even if the bug bit me late, it bit me hard. What’s more, it seems like the bite keeps getting bigger.

My first regularly published writing, as I think I’ve mentioned before, was on the Attachment & Trauma Network blog (see a sample post here if you’re so inclined), which I wrote for and edited for about five years. I also kept my own blog, Les Pensées du chat noir, for a little while, though my contributions were so sporadic as to be a surprise even to myself and I eventually abandoned the effort.

During the blogging years I also joined a writing group and started taking a fairly serious crack at writing memoir and creative nonfiction. I did well in a couple of writing contests and eventually branched out to writing short stories as well. Then, back in October, I wrote my first poem here on Substack, a twist I did not see coming.

Correction: I cannot fairly say that I wrote that poem. Ruth did the legwork of finding the words. I simply rearranged them.

Something that niggled at me during the blogging years was whether that work made me a “real” writer. I mean, real writers had things in print, ideally books, but articles, columns, feature stories, these all seemed more “real” than what I was doing.

And yet… I put hours into that work each time I sat down to do it. It was serious “butt in chair” time, to quote Anne Lamott. Also—and this is no small thing—people read it, both at ATN and on my own blog. If that’s not writing, I’m not sure what is. And yet, except for trying to get my work into various lit mags, I abandoned online writing for a couple years.

Enter Substack. I think I’d probably been reading newsletters from the site without realizing it when my friend Sarah started her own, called Vibe Check. As I engaged more with the Substack platform, it seemed like such a writer-friendly space that I felt that pull to experiment with online personal writing again. About that same time, I started getting copies of Ruth’s columns, and so here we are.

I had barely gotten started here when the Notes feature was introduced. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and not in the fun way either. One thing I loved about Substack is how it helped keep me off mainstream social media. The last thing I wanted was to see that environment reproduced in a space that had felt free and open for me to play in. And sure enough, a kerfuffle recently erupted involving a writer I admire and follow. I’m not going to say who or reproduce even one word of that here, because that is diametrically opposed of why I came to Substack in the first place. Nothing is to be gained by piling extra wood on an already destructive fire.

One thing that came up, though, one to which I had previously not paid the slightest attention, was the question of checkmarks. I had not even noticed the stupid things until this online argument iterated ad nauseam all the reasons I was supposed to care. Yes, I see all the things Substack wants us to do to make money on their platform; the thing is, there are so many of them that I don’t even pay attention. [Pro-tip, Substack: a person who chooses to teach French and write CNF for lit mags while living in Central Appalachia is not likely to be all that motivated by monetary gain.] The checkmark thing, though, that threw me for a brief moment—was I meant to want one?

Maybe that’s what Substack wanted, I decided, but that’s not what I want. That’s not why I started this publication. While I do subject readers to my musings, ultimately Rural Reflections – The Reboot is not about me. It’s about my grandmother and her wisdom and why we need to be listening to our elders and to voices from rural places and pushing for more of these voices to be from those who identify as women. And so I will climb off all my soapbox now and give Ruth the floor instead.

Lucky, the black cat for whom my first blog was named (it wasn't just from a nightclub in Paris)

Rural Reflections

By Ruth Dennis (January 13, 1991)

Why am I writing a column every week? This past week, when I was making mental searches for a new subject for this “Rural Reflections,” I found myself asking this question.¹

When no topic came readily to mind, I decided to explore this business of my being a columnist and perhaps why others were also.

While I began writing what was of course to have been “The Great American Novel” on lined yellow legal pads when I was about 10 years old, I did not attempt or think about writing columns until my high school journalism classes. When I earned a placed on the staff of the school newspaper I was given the opportunity to write a column of “Chatter” sprinkled with adolescent comments about “LIFE.” Because at that time my last name was Cornwell, these columns were entitled “Corny’s Comments.” In later years I have shuddered at the title as well as the comments and have kept my few copies of those high school papers among my very private memorabilia—especially when my sons were teenagers themselves.

Creative writing in college was limited to term papers and critiques on the many books read in English and American Lit courses. My journalism courses provided some outlet for more creative writing, but my work was never selected for the college publication.²

Then came years filled to the brim with being a farm wife, a mother, and an active participant in community organizations (all of which have provided a broad backdrop for writing in later years).

The writing bug is one that cannot be denied and I became the Jasper correspondent for The Evening Tribune and The Canisteo Times. Each week there was a column headed “Jasper” with my by-line that included reports of Grange, church, and PTA, as well as the “personals” about who had company from where and who traveled when.

For two and a half years my husband and I ran The Canisteo Times, the eight-page weekly version. As editor I had a personal column on the front page titled appropriately “Column One” with my personal observations and account of our life on the farm. Our sons were at times not too appreciative of having personal events chronicled for public reading. Bouts with measles and mumps, the time the cellar flooded, the time the pipes in the barn froze all were told in “Column One,” along with trips to New York City, involvement with 4-H and Cub Scouts, and vacation times.

Even in those years there would be a Sunday night when I would moan, “What will I write about for this week’s column?” But with a growing family and a working farm I could find something—if I took the time for reflection.

We changed jobs and joined The Evening Tribune staff to report on farm new and to have a weekly farm page, “Along Rural By-Ways.” Then our “beat” was changed to Allegany County along with Jasper and environs. But the column writing was stirring, even with all the other news to be written.

One day I placed a column on the editor’s desk which I had started with “Move Over, Dale Evans” and in which I had told of helping urge two large bulls to trade their ill-gotten freedom for the barnyard. To my delight, the column was printed and I had a by-line for the effort.

Encouraged, columns were written periodically on farm or rural issues or sometimes detailing family or personal experiences. These carried a by-line of Robert and Ruth Dennis and were titled “RD 1 and 2.”³ They were indicative of our partnership in observation and thought.

There were years in between, but now I am in my second year writing “Rural Reflections” for The Spectator. But if sometimes it is difficult to think of a column subject or if the weekly deadlines keep coming sooner, or so it seems, why do I write a weekly column?

Because I want to share memories with people of my age and to remind those who are younger of a different pace of life, or different responses to a situation. Because I want people to think about an issue that involves not only farm families but almost everyone in the Southern Tier. Because I want to tell about people who have achieved a goal or faced problems and who could provide an example for others.

I don’t write the columns to preach, to change a reader’s mind. Instead I write “Rural Reflections” to share happenings, thoughts, concerns. Most of all, I think, I write “Rural Reflections” because I have to. I’m not sure, but maybe Ellen Goodman, Erma Bombeck, or even Terry Clark, will agree that this why a columnist continues writing columns.”⁴

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Dennis, of Jasper, is a columnist for the Spectator

Three rather different books written by women about writing, all of which have influenced me in some way. In fact, stay tuned for the possibility of a whole post about Clear Springs—reading it now and loving it!

1. I feel fortunate that Ruth has already supplied any number of topics for this newsletter!

2. Note, dear reader, that the “college” in question was no less than the College of Arts & Sciences at Cornell—tough market to break into, I’d say.

3. Yes, this cleverly plays on their initials (though they never did say who was 1 and who was 2)… and who else remembers the old “Rural Delivery” addresses used by those of us who lived out in the country?

4. Some of the books Ruth mentions most often are collections of other writers’ columns, some of which I have purchased copies of. I also have evidence she was working such on a volume herself. Maybe this Substack is a way of helping to make that happen? If nothing else, I hope she knows that you all are reading her writing. I want to believe she’d love that.