i wanted to tell you that i missed you,
that i wish you were here to see me grow.
i wish that i knew where you are.
are you here in this town
or have you moved far away?
do you think that we’ll talk
can our lives twist together
like the vines round a tree
or are we destined to split,
creaking apart with the weight of our pain?
i wanted to tell you
that i miss you so much,
i wish you were here,
just what do we do?
I’m teaching my Year 7s to write dramatic monologues and it’s such an interesting form of writing that I never really utilise.
I’ve been scouring the internet for examples and there are some that actually have the power to move me to tears. I’m finding that writing my own monologues is almost like going to therapy.
I think that sometimes we need to be a little bit more indulgent and let it all out. It helps us all to breathe a little easier, and I think we all need that every now and then.
Surprise, surprise, most of my outpourings are about my mum and our broken relationship. But writing those words feels a little bit like applying a soothing ointment to a really painful wound.
3 thoughts on “writing monologues”
Writing really can be wonderful therapy, can’t it, Rachel? And I can imagine monologues are a great place to start (I have to admit, I’ve not done that yet, myself, but it sounds very cathartic. Thanks for sharing this one; it really is moving and evocative.
Your monologue is moving, and I got to thinking about the historic dramatic monologues created by Tennyson and Browning. And I wondered if you could create a character out of the speaker–say, Ophelia writing to her mother about whom, I don’t believe, we know much of anything. Nothing would really need to be changed, and then there would be effective verse living in two worlds. More importantly, though, your work speaks to your and your mom’s relationship for real, and that’s stirring.
Thank you. And yes, there must be so many voices that people would love to hear more of. There are so many directions I could take with that unit of work.