Charlotte Gann and I have been talking/writing about this writing and project, and the result is published here.
Thanks to Charlotte for her time, insight and interest. It's been a pleasure.
Here's a taste:
Charlotte: 'I can see why the blog form seems right: changing and developing, the variety of entries, and the opening up of conversation. A vehicle to talk about something we don’t – dementia – from your own lived experience, as it unfolds.
This seems pioneering, to me. You’re mapping territory?
Perhaps we can’t do a lot, necessarily, each one of us, but peg out our tent on the side of a snowy mountain. Say "Here I am"; invite others to reply "Hello", or "I’m here too"… Isn’t that really something? (Why be quiet?)'
Click the button to read the rest...
I have been reading your blog again, Maxine, starting from the oldest entry. It is so tender, open and true. I feel glad that you’re writing, and sharing your words.
Also, you saying you love cabins has really made me imagine being in a cabin. It’s ok to love cabins, I tell myself. Maxine loves them.
Thank you.
Thank you Maxine for sharing your conversation with Charlotte. It was such an interesting piece and touched on so many memories for me. I am sure that the discipline that you have evolved within your writing practice can only be beneficial. It will I am certain help you through the difficult times and provide the focus that it always has. Channelling that passion into sharing your journey will undoubtedly help others and yourself. I was moved by your comments about Kate and how being alongside her on her journey had helped you to know what you wanted for yourself. I constantly question the way that I coped with and reacted to her illness. I am reasonably sure that her anxiety…
Ah mapping and maps. I associate you with maps - I remember a poem you wrote about wishing you could fold the map to bring the sea closer to Leicester - it really struck a chord with me.
I remember too a walk where we talked so much that we forgot to read the map and had to find our way by ‘as the crow flies’ stomping across muddy fields to the point in the distance we knew was home.
I like this idea of mapping. Life happens so quickly, I forget where I have been. I have no desire to go back the way I came, but I wish I had charted the journey more carefully. And I’m moving…