Friday Speak Out!: The Power of the Story

by Sioux Roslawski

Why do we write what we do? Who is our audience? And the most important question, the most heartfelt one (and the one that is usually unspoken): Will our writing matter to anyone—does anybody really care? *

I got an answer to that last question recently. And the petite, curly-haired woman who delivered the answer changed my life with just a few soft-spoken words.

Just before Mother's Day, I was honored to celebrate the holiday by sharing my story—my birth mother's story—on a stage. It was the Listen to Your Mother St. Louis show. I had written a piece to submit, had gotten it critiqued, sent it in, auditioned, was chosen, rehearsed, had bonded with the other women, and had now performed for the second show of the day. The rollercoaster day—all highs and thrilling turns—was over. Or so I thought...

I was in an out-of-the-way spot, by the bathrooms, saying goodbye to my half-sister and my daughter and granddaughter. A woman—the petite and pretty one I mentioned earlier—walked up to me. The words seemed to tumble out.

“I enjoyed your story. I'm an adoptee too, and I know who my birth mother is, but she won't admit it.” We spoke for a while. I had already shared a little slice of my life (and bared my soul) in front of the microphone, so all I needed to do now was listen. It was like the two of us were having an intimate conversation, and I had started the dialogue when I was onstage. Now, it was her turn to reply.

Okay, perhaps I won't ever write a best-selling book that will snag rave reviews. Perhaps my little memoir stories won't make me an internationally-known writer. Most likely, I won't ever get rich writing. But my words do matter. My sister was glad our mother's story was finally told. My daughter was proud that that particular part of my history was shared in such a public way. And my telling my story spurred this woman to perhaps tell her own story some day.

Her story. I was prodding her to have the courage to share her unique-to-her story someday soon. Because that is of course how we parted. I reiterated that it was her birth mother's loss—she was losing out because she refuses to let her daughter into her life.(That was one of the first things that came out of my mouth—uncensored—after this lovely woman introduced herself.)

And then I said, “And you have a story to tell. Think about it. Think about submitting your story next year.”

Who knows who will be affected by the words we put down on paper? Who knows what spark will be ignited by our lines? But we'll never find out if we don't have the courage to write...

* I had to give a little nod to the band Chicago, in their early (and great) days, when they were brass-heavy.

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Sioux Roslawski is a third grade teacher by day and by night (and on the weekends) she writes stories to send to Chicken Soup for the Soul and other anthologies. She also rescues dogs for Love a Golden, which results in constant dog hair in her car. More of Sioux's writing can be found on her blog—http://siouxspage.blogspot.com
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Would you like to participate in Friday "Speak Out!"? Email your short posts (under 500 words) about women and writing to: marcia[at]wow-womenonwriting[dot]com for consideration. We look forward to hearing from you!

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