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3rd PLACE - 10th ANNUAL FUNDSFORWRITERS ESSAY CONTEST - NO ENTRY FEE CATEGORY Love Notes By Monica A. Andermann My brother Louis sits hunched over the white paper, a thick marker poised in his right hand. “Spell it,” he insists. “L-O-V-E,” I respond slowly, waiting as he meticulously prints each block letter, giving extra attention to bring his pen around and around the O until he has created a perfect circle. Each letter must meet the standards of his discerning eye; each word must properly convey his feelings. Nothing less will do as evidenced by the crumpled discards that litter the floor around him. He looks up at me again as he contemplates his next word. His eyes search the air around him as he concentrates on his next phrase. Finally, my brother decides and I help guide his spelling once again. Louis is a forty-seven year old man with special needs who has recently met an equally special young lady at the day program they both attend. They like to write love notes to each other. Often, when my brother and I visit, we sit together composing these letters. For him, even the process of writing “I love you” is arduous. Yet, he is not deterred. He has something important to say. And he will not stop until it is said. I know just how he feels. Five years ago, I made the decision to leave behind a business career spanning twenty-plus years in favor of the writing life. All I had to my credit at that time was a driving desire to write, to communicate my ideas, to be heard. So I enrolled in some writing and literature courses at a local college. I joined a writer’s group. I bought some new pens and notebooks. Then I hunched over those notebooks and started to write. I stared into the air searching for my next phrase. I consulted my helpers: the dictionary; that worn edition of Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style; and my trusty paperback thesaurus. I brought my pen around and around the arc of my stories trying to make them perfectly round, unflawed, and when they were not, I scattered the crumpled discards on the floor around me. No matter how arduous the process, I continued, because like my brother, I had something important to say. And I wouldn’t stop until it was said. Through this practice, my writing improved. Soon, I was encouraged by a professor to submit a few pieces to the college’s literary journal. They were accepted. With my confidence increased ten-fold, I submitted a personal essay to an anthology. That was accepted, too. Then came time for my final college project: a book-length manuscript. Write from the heart, my professor suggested. After all, this manuscript was something I was expected to peddle after graduation. It might as well be on a subject that I, as a writer, felt passionate about. I wrote about my brother. I wrote about how, though it took an entire summer, Louis learned to tie his shoes. I wrote about how, through his own sheer tenacity, he made friends of the neighborhood bullies. I wrote about how he fell and got up and fell and got up over and over again until he gained the balance and skill to ride a bike. Then I wrote about how my brother, a person who doctors initially recommended for institutionalization, became a commended artist who now serves his community by volunteering for a number of worthy causes. After she finished reading the manuscript, my professor looked up at me through mist-filled eyes and instructed me to get this series of essays out into the world. However, the world was not so ready to receive it. The market for stories about individuals with special needs, no matter how triumphant those stories may be, is narrow at best. Yet, that did not deter me. I shopped them to magazines and anthologies and several have since found homes. In the meantime, more essays about my brother have been written. He is ever-evolving. So is my writing. And I continue to submit and submit, over and over again and I will not stop until each of these essays about my brother have been printed in black and white. I cannot stop. They are my love notes to him. BIO:
Monica A. Andermann lives and writes on Long Island. Her work has been
included in several Chicken Soup for the Soul collections as well
as in such publications as Sasee, Skirt!, The Secret Place, and Woman's
World. E-mail:
monicawrites@verizon.net
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