The Spring Freshet

I write more in fall and winter. I'm inspired more by those seasons. It seems like spring and summer should inspire more, with their riots of colorful blooms at every turn.

I suppose I feel like they speak for themselves. I go for the understated. The beauty less loved. I adore the solace of snow. I chat with engaging, crackling fires ~ and note the sublime in crackling morning frosts.

This is a lesson for a writing life. Look at more than the obvious, the showy. Focus on the undercurrents, the building blocks for the "greater" seasons to come. This will create a fullness in your work, enriched by quiet introspection and observation.

Then, when the riots of morning birdsong and evenings of spring peepers in the pond come, as they have now, the fullness of their songs will be enhanced by the comparative depth of silence.

Emergence

Why didn't I think of that?

I have to admit, I'm rather ridiculously excited about a concept I wish I'd come up with - that editing writing can be fun. What?! That torturous exercise of revision ~ of grappling with vocabulary for the perfect word or turn of phrase? How?

By comparison. I just finished the chapter Form Versus Formula in The Right to Write where Julia Cameron compares writing editing to film-making editing. Again I exclaim, What?! There is nothing I love more! Then the flash came ~ I understood what she was saying, and it has changed everything.

In film-making you get shots ~ lots of them ~ from every angle imaginable. If you are filming people, you film each person from the front, side, and/or back. If one person has a monologue, you film the other character's reaction to it. If they are handing off objects, you get a tight shot of the transfer. Then you take it all back to the computer and begin splicing and dicing and weaving the clips into scenes. THEN you give the scenes filters and effects to really set the tone and mood. And it's thrilling.



Why, then, can we not think of writing this way? I think there's the idea that it has to come to the page in perfect form, from start to finish. Why not just throw everything out there, from every angle, from every perspective, and not even worry about refinement til we get to the editing process? Yes, you can keep the best parts, and leave the others on the cutting room floor.

If there is something beautiful you "can't part with," tuck it in another file for potential use on the next project.

Add light, add effect, add emotion...and above all, enjoy. "Action!"

Who I am instead

My sister sent me this quote last night, sharing in her frustration over it. Sometimes security is absolutely worth it ~ like caring for a loved one through illness or in their twilight years; or, making sure your children have a life that will grow them into thriving adulthood. There is something about security that brings its own satisfaction.

I would also argue that dreams aren't so easily murdered. I think everyone has an alternate persona apart from their everyday life, apart from what they do. Ask anyone "who are you instead?" and you'll likely get an answer that sounds something like the idea of these dreams.

The key is to live in keeping with your desires as far as possible anyway. Weave your dreams into your secure life. These are not mutually exclusive things.

I am a park ranger ~ that is what I do. I am a writer and an artist and a traveler ~ that is who I am. While I was caring for my father, part of what got me through was styling myself as Emily Dickinson, L.M. Montgomery, or Charlotte Bronte, secluded in my home, writing, caring for my father and the land, and finding beauty where I could.

Do you have a dream in the midst of your everyday life? Take an online class, take a picture, watch a how-to. Buy a notebook and a fresh pen, buy a sketching pad and some pastel pencils. Step out in the direction of your dreams, and I think you'll be surprised at how resilient they are.

Prepping for Paris

Returning to the Left Bank Writer's Retreat in June has me already dreaming of the City of Light. I'm swimming in related literature until I get back there in person...I'm longing for violet ice cream, art, and the sound of bells chiming the hours.

March 1st

In like a lion 

Or in like a gentle lamb 

The air seems quiet 

Unnaturally so ~
A weather breeder we called it

A restless stirring

Disquiets my inner peace

Storms are predicted.