It doesn't surprise me that these dreams are coming -- every night, now -- in part because I am bringing up ancient stuff in working on a family essay that takes me into dark territory. But I must go there. I've been saying for years that I'm going to write a memoir. And now it's asking for attention. But working on this essay has shown me that I'm not ready for that rabbit hole to consume me, but that I might be able to break it into tiny bites... a poem here, a list there, a vignette or essay at some point.
This is maybe more than anyone wants to know... I just want to mark it here, as I'm the only person who will read through these entries many years from now and say, "oh... I remember that... that was the time that..." etc. So here you go.
In writing news, it's butt-my-head-against-the-wall time. I rush to the page to scribble a line that's in my head as I wake, as I shower, as I pull weeds or pick beans. I now have pages of these lines, and I see what project of the many I'm trying to work on here (experimenting) they relate to, but I don't have a way to connect them yet. The fascia is missing... something like that.
So I wander (because that's what it feels like -- arrrrgggghhh!) between the essay, the picture book, the start of the novel, the research, the new project I'm excited about (naturally), the biography I want to write, and I feel as if I'm wafting from palette to palette, brushstroking and sighing on. It's frustrating. Nothing is finished.
The alternative is to put all but one project away (my usual way of working) and focus on that one project to the exclusion of everything else. And I've been afraid to do that because of the rabbit-hole effect I mentioned here (well, hmmm... I didn't mention it there, just mentioned the project/essay possibility... but I felt it). And here (wow, way back in 2008). And here (in the very wise comments). And here (about Countdown). And here, about tracking down sources. I am wary of the rabbit holes, even though I know I survive them. We all do. Right? Still.
I am wary because... what? I am wrung out at the end? I focus to the exclusion of everything else in my life? I am afraid of what I will discover? My wee heart/mind/psyche doesn't want to go there? I know the time it takes? The toll it exacts? Yes. To all of it.
So I wander from canvas to canvas. And I dream.
I'm so grateful for your vulnerability. I can relate to the wandering from canvas to canvas, and the doubts that plague me as I do. Hearing that such an accomplished writer has the same human-ness, makes me trust that there is much good that will come out of this process.
ReplyDeleteGreg, I watched the book trailer for DASH -- it's great. And doesn't it point out our vulnerabilities and common humanity. I can trust if you can trust... etc. I believe we hold each other up. Thanks for writing.
DeleteI so agree with Greg A. - it is good to know others are a bit leery of the rabbit hole. I think my summer writing block has to do with my own fears of the topic I have taken on - loss of parents and finding your own footing in the world. I like the idea of writing little bits that can be pulled together later or not.
ReplyDeleteHang in there - picking beans is always good to do - the stretching, the clear air and a bit of fuel to then face the canvas again. I am picking basil and making pesto instead of writing. Hmmm? The pesto will be great this winter but maybe a few more words on the page would be good as well. As always thanks for sharing your thoughts.
There are entire books written about writing and fear. I have read some of them, but none of them can help me get through my own fear like just sitting down an facing it. And that requires a good bit of oomph. If I spend all my oomph at the page, I seem to have little left for the garden or the house or the friends or even my own good self. Part of this year of exploration is about trying to figure this out -- how can I balance it better? Or maybe I can't. Thanks for your thoughts and hugs on the loss of your parents. Each Little Bird That Sings is about that sort of loss. I shot for the hole. And it pretty much consumed me. :> xo
DeleteOne of the reasons I like to teach art and writing workshops to kids, is that I get to teach them that they have to face down fears to get anything accomplished. It's easier to talk to kids about this and they are better at letting go of fear, but as adults, we fear more because we are judged more. Self-judgement is the worst. But we all need to create. We also need time to wander from canvas to canvas. The poet W.S. Merwin spoke at an event I attended. I was 20ish. I asked him how do you know you're a writer? He answered, if you can't stop. And even though I've stopped from time to time, I always restarted, so the fears must be faced. Thanks for sharing your face-off with us all.
ReplyDeleteSelf-judgment is the worst. Yes. And for me, at least, the wandering is essential. I have to keep reminding myself that it's okay. I have a friend that attended a Zen retreat with Merwin many years ago. She was in charge of the kitchen and said that he was terrible at chopping carrots, completely useless in the kitchen! But so good at other things. The way it goes, eh?
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