Biting my tongue; watching my words #SOL23 1/31

Here I sit on Day 1 of the March Slice of Life Challenge: once again, I have committed to try to write & publish every day for the next 31 days. I’ve done this for a few years now, so I know some of the ups & downs, but this year brings a new challenge beyond writing: I need to bite my tongue. 

Biting my tongue does not sound like fun. I pause to consider this. Literally biting your tongue hurts a lot – there’s a moment of disbelief, followed by the warm taste of blood, and then the pain that lingers while your tongue heals. Worse, once you’ve bitten your tongue, you often bite it again, its unexpectedly swollen shape catching in your teeth over and over. No wonder I do not want to write for a month if I need to bite my tongue. That sounds awful.

**Some minutes pass in which I fruitlessly attempt to remember times when I have or haven’t bitten my tongue, literally or figuratively. I remember nothing despite knowing that I have done these things.

In an attempt to re-frame, I have decided that I will not, in fact, bite my tongue this month. Instead, I will watch my words. This catches my imagination. Here I sit, writing about this moment in my life, and I can literally watch my words come into being. Look, there’s another one. And another! In class, I tell students to keep their pencil moving or to keep their fingers typing. Watch those words multiply! Look at how much you’ve written! 

Now I imagine my words multiplying, then beginning to peel off the page. They grow bigger and bigger, each word breaking free and flying around the room until the room can no longer contain them and they slip through cracks and imagined spaces and – there! – off they go, out into the world until I am no longer able to watch them, no longer able to see who they meet or how they meet them. I feel lighter already. Yes, watching words is doable.

Friends, I may not make it through all 31 days, but I might, and I won’t if I don’t start. I will not be able to write the whole truth all of the time, but I will be able to write a slice of the truth. I will be able to capture a moment – maybe a moment like this one that exists only because I have embraced the uncertainty that comes from watching my words grow. This month, I will share those words with you, acknowledging from the beginning that each slice of life is only one part of a sometimes nearly invisible whole.

I will not bite my tongue, but I will watch my words. That seems realistic. Watch with me?

Join us at twowritingteachers.org After all, you never know what you might write until you write it.

36 thoughts on “Biting my tongue; watching my words #SOL23 1/31

  1. I love the idea of “watching my words.” This last line stuck with me: each slice of life is only one part of a sometimes nearly invisible whole because those are true words. Happy word watching!

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  2. There are days when you just wish you could tell it like it REALLY is, and can’t. I have lived many of those, some for personal reasons and some professional. I hope you are able to use this month to set free the words you need to, and can find a way to let go of what you have to hold.

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  3. I could so connect with this piece. I rarely blog about teaching for just this reason. So hard to watch my words and bite my tongue and figure out what part of the truth is mine to tell, is ok to tell. The paragraph with the image of the words breaking free from the page was so powerful.

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    1. Yup – who’s story is it anyway? And yet I am fascinated by story and how we (I) tell it. This will be a month of figuring out exactly what you wrote: “what part of the truth is mine to tell.” At a minimum, trying to answer will be interesting.

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  4. Among many little bits I liked across your post today, this one was it for me, “I won’t if I don’t start.”
    Happy starting and hopefully finishing the month of writing!

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    1. Oh Betsy, I owe you & everyone else at Two Writing Teachers such a debt of gratitude. Before I came here, I wouldn’t even have known how to do that in writing. Now, here I am, writing even when it’s hard; starting even when I’m unsure. Imagine how much better I am at teaching writing from that experience alone. March, here I come!

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    1. My first year here I tried to blog daily about teaching; it didn’t take long for me to realize I would have to weave in other things, too. I was torn: did I *really* want to reveal my family life? Here I am, 7 (?) years later & still trying to figure out what I’m writing. Welcome to the community! Looking forward to seeing what you write this month!

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  5. I am so glad that I found your slice today; it resonates quite deeply. I made a choice in September to attach the link to my blog in my email signature and while I appreciate the added exposure, it has definitely left me skating around the nearly invisible whole. So much is unsaid…and so much is hidden between the lines. Thank you for this slice!

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    1. Ooh – attaching it to your email signature is *daring*! I thought I was living on the edge when I started sharing on FB & Twitter – heeheehee. Now I have something to strive for – just as soon as I’m sure I know how to keep the invisible where it belongs.

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  6. Biting our tongues is hard work, so I agree – let’s just watch our words. And the truth is, sometimes reactions are calmer when we DON’T say something, but truth often gets told when we DO. Looking forward to seeing what you have to say this month!

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    1. Well. There’s a line I’m going to sit with for a long time: “sometimes reactions are calmer when we DON’T say something, but truth often gets told when we DO.” Thank you for that gem. Hmm… my mind is whirring.

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  7. “I have embraced the uncertainty that comes from watching my words grow”. I love this line! Donald Murray or maybe it was Donald Graves who wrote about writing as a process of discovery. If we think about 31 days of discovery it’s bit more energizing than say, “I have to write for 31 days.” This stream of conscience slice was fun to read. Looking forward to the slices where you tell the truth and those with just a slice of truth!

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    1. 31 days of discovery. YES! That’s what I’m going to tell myself from now on. What a fun little prompt that will be each evening: what did I discover today? Ooh. This could be a game-changer.

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  8. A few years back I wrote a post called “I am not honest when I write.” I suspect we share some of the same concerns/inhibitions… although your beginning with ‘biting your tongue’ makes me think of the political realm. Or perhaps you are in a vulnerable place at work? I do hope you will write (I have enjoyed reading your work!) And I hope small slices of truth will help, even if in the big picture, you still have to watch your words.

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    1. Oh Fran, I may very well have to go through your old posts and find that one. The longer I write the more I realize how picking and choosing topics & stories is both political and vulnerable on its own. Small slices of things that are true seems like a worthy (and attainable) goal for me this month. I’m looking forward to reading and writing with you.

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  9. The pain of repressed expression comes through in the image of your teeth biting your tongue and Fran’s title “I am not hones when I write” says it all. Some words connected to thoughts and feelings can be shared. And some cannot. That suffocation or silencing has consequences which poetry and the dance of words can emeliorate. I know your words dance and bring joy to others; I hope they do the same for you 🙂

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  10. I know a whole bunch about that! I remember when you first persuaded me to join this challenge, three years ago… this was my fear, and it still remains. I wonder if, as we age (gracefully, of course), that the erosion of the filter makes it even more of a challenge.

    I always look forward to seeing how you slice up your day!

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  11. I’m excited to watch your words grow too. I wasn’t sure if you’d be back this year.

    Last year I was biting my tongue a lot. I found myself writing about inconsequential, mundane things when I really wanted to write about a lot of others things I’m still not going to be public about. It was hard. But it felt good at the same time. You are always braver than I with your words and I am sure you will find a beautiful balance.

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  12. Amanda, this is a wonderful way to frame how we choose words, what we do w/ our words. As O began reading, I immediately thought of Tybalt in R&J and biting the thumb as an insult. Not sure why my mind went there, except perhaps the idea of gestures being unspoken words.

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  13. Sounds like a self affirmation to commit, but giving yourself permission to ride the wave, and also a call for an accountability piece.
    I love reading your posts, and so, I for one, am looking forward to your words — and please, if you do bite your tongue, write about the pain and healing process of after.

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  14. Word play! Humor! Voice, voice, voice! Sometimes straight shooting; other times, telling it slant… I’m definitely parking in my annual seat to watch 🙂

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  15. I’m in! I’m in! I’m watching with you! I love the evolution of this piece…the way you work in the “memory” of biting your tongue with the metaphor of such a thing. I love how it makes me wonder just what is happening to make you feel this way. I also feel that I may not make it through the whole month, and I even said I wouldn’t be here this year…but I’m really happy YOU are! Let’s do this.

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  16. What beautiful imagery and interesting thoughts! I loved the paragraph about the watching the words peel up and fly away, partly because I had that very experience as a 9th grade student when I spiked an extremely high fever in my English class and all the teacher’s words turned into word balloons and floated away right in front of my eyes.

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  17. I loved the word watching image you created. There’s incredible power in watching the words and selecting the ones that tell the story we want even if we can’t tell everything.

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  18. Having spent Tuesday night talking with you, I am so very glad you have decided you can do this. I would have missed your March writing immensely. I will be watching your words (and listening on Tuesdays).

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  19. I look forward to reading your honesty and truth as it plays out on the page. Writing is a form of expression, and it is hard, almost to the point of useless, if the proverbial pen is handcuffed.

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