When I first started this blog, I imagined that I would focus on adoption as well as other, more general topics. I think I managed to write two posts about parenting that weren't adoption-specific before adoption took over, demanding to be my only subject. I did try to start another blog once, under a different name. I was going to write as though I had no connection to adoption over there ... not mention the a-word at all. I think I wrote one post, and it was probably about adoption, too, in some indirect way.
I used to resist having adoption as my subject. Years ago I was in a writing group that met once a week in the town of Northampton, Massachusetts. This was shortly before my reunion with my first mother, and a lot of adoptee emotions were rising up to the surface. When I'd write about adoption, people would respond positively. They'd tell me there was power in it and I should stick with the material for a while to see where it would take me, but I considered the topic too narrow, too confining. I didn't want adoption to define me. I wanted to be a "regular" person, a "regular" writer. I was still young then. I thought such a creature existed.
Now I've realized that it is impossible for me to write without writing about adoption. It does define me. Everything that I see, I see with the eyes of an adoptee. In another writing group, before I was had consciously selected adoption as my topic, someone once identified the threads that tied my pieces together as "love and loss." Hmm. Love and loss. That sounds like adoption to me.
Someday I may reach a point where I no longer write about adoption as directly as I do now, but whatever my subject matter, I will always be an adoptee writer, shaped by my early experience of separation and my long struggle to make sense of a life knocked off kilter from day one. Love and loss.
What is the difference between adoption writing and some other kind? I can't really tell you. Maybe some day I'll be able to, but for now, this is what I do.