Write on Wednesday - Writing Even When I'm Not

You may have noticed that things have been a bit quiet here at the Byline. In fact, last Wednesday, I mentioned the "b" word that strikes fear in the heart of every writer. In thinking about writing and living over the past week, I don't believe I'm "blocked" as much as I am "busy," that life with all its mundane burdens has simply dulled the creative senses. And I'm really tired - physically and mentally. So I'm not stressing about the lack of wordplay in my mind, but I am trying to rejuvenate my body and spirit, so they will be habitable abodes for the muse once more. Even though I'm not actually writing a lot, I'm trying to do things that nurture writing, that keep the seeds watered, even if they're still lying dormant in the fallow ground of my mind. Things like these...

• Reading books and poetry, because great words written by others always inspire me...
• Doing morning pages religiously, because I love them, and I nearly always learn something surprising about myself and my life...
• Sleeping! that's right, I've been going to bed early rather than staying up until all hours blogging. I've had a couple of fascinating "sleep epiphanies," when I find myself partially awake with a beautifully crafted sentence or line of poetry in my head. Sadly, I haven't yet been able to rouse myself enough to write them down, but it's been an exciting gift to have them arrive in my brain, unbidden...
• Listening to music~not the music I'm playing for school, but real music. It's surprising how rarely I listen to music, which is unfortunate - listening to good music is just as important to a musician as reading good books is to a writer. So I took my book CD out of the car and replaced it with a rather eclectic collection of music CD's...The Dixie Chicks, Josh Groban, Vladimir Horowitz, The Eagles, and Simon and Garfunkle. Something for every mood...
• Being still~there is so little time to be quiet, to be alone with no demands for my attention. I've been longing for some "moodling" time, to take a long walk or bike ride, perhaps go to a local park and explore a hiking trail, or try out the new coffee shop that just opened nearby...

Nurturing myself, inside and out, giving myself positive sensory input, allowing myself time to absorb life and its experiences are all ways of feeding my creative soul.

How about you? What are some of the ways you "write", even when you're not??

One Deep Breath-The Sea

A couple of weeks ago, in the midst of an absolutely crazy busy week, I flew to Florida for two days. It seemed ridiculous to me at the time~I was exhausted from dealing with work, preparing for the competition I was accompanying, and handling issues with my mother in law. But, Jim was there for the week, and he encouraged me to take the 48 hours I managed to eke out of my schedule and come down for a brief respite. In that tiny period of time, really just one full day, I managed to do the things I love most about spending time in Florida (aside from being with my family, which is of course, always the best part of being there). Eating at the outdoor cafes, riding our bikes, and of course, walking along the beach.

waves lick my toes eternal rhythms echo in my heart ~ taste of sea salt lingers on my lips~ ocean's kiss ~ sea walk calms my spirit sends me home rested and renewed take a deep breath and plunge into more sea haiku here

Sunday Scribblings-Wings

The sound startled me-almost like thunder, a rapid tatoo rising from the copse of bushes just ahead. The dogs heard it, and stopped in their tracks ~ Magic on guard, Molly slightly fearful, heads cocked expectantly.

They rose majestically above our heads, a whole flock (or is it a gaggle?) of Canadian geese in perfect V-formation, their wings working furiously to heft their heavy bodies aloft, desperate to rise above earth and all its dangers. My head rose instinctually to follow their movement into a sky so sharply blue and clear that it pierces my eyes. For one instant, in the course of their trajectory heavenward, I might have reached up and grazed the underbelly of the leader, but I was frozen, held silent by their power and beauty.

My breath caught in my throat, watching them soar until they reached cruising altitude, their wings settling into a steady rhythm, propelling them forward across the sky. I realized I had stopped breathing for those few seconds it had taken them to rise above the ground, had placed a hand over my heart as if to hold it inside my chest, for it was beating with its own furious rhythm and desperate yearning. Oh, to be able to rise above the earth, to shake off all its dangers and cares, to launch myself into freedom with the power of strong wings to guide me.

In a few moments, they had passed from sight, crossing the road and turning toward the southern half of the park. Would they set down in a quieter, safer place, or decided to fly on, letting their wings carry them to destinations unknown? How would they decide, how would they know when time and place were just right? What instinctual knowledge guided them?

With a sigh, I gathered my self and my dogs together and continued to trek across the park, anchored to land and life, nothing to raise me above the reality of daily life. Yet the powerful rush of those wings, those racing engines of freedom, remained in my memory, prodding me to spread wings that often seem riveted to my sides holding me hidebound to earth, whispering words of encouragement in my ear. Soar...Fly.

~~go aloft on more wings here

photo credit

Clearing the Cobwebs

If your house is anything like mine these days, there are lots of cobwebs floating around. The spring sunshine illuminates them hanging from the light fixtures and tucked into corners, and I even discovered one entwined round the pedal posts on my piano. My mind has its own cobwebs, a veritable haunted mansion full of them. Perhaps clearing away a couple of the larger ones will free up space for some positive, creative thought formations.

~getting closer to making a decision about my life next year, i.e., whether to continue with my job at the high school or not. As I was writing morning pages yesterday, it seemed perfectly clear that I needed to give up that job. Then it occurred to me that I continually use the term "give up" when I think about leaving that position, a term you would use about something you were relinquishing against your will. And that is exactly what I will be/would be doing. That job is my labor of love, and I am loathe to "give it up" (there I go again). However, I am exhausted with this feeling that my life is out of control, that all my time is consumed by work (even work I love), and there is no time left for me to take proper care of myself or my family. Something has to give... ~trying to embrace the idea of change, and find the strength to initiate change in my life. While sitting at the piano during a musical rehearsal the other day, I realized the type of work I do as an accompanist perfectly mirrors the way I live my life. Sitting and waiting for my cue, taking direction from someone else, being necessary and important, but always slightly in the background...that's me, on the bench and off! The months ahead may bring some major (happy!) changes for our family, and I want to be able to direct my own life so that I can take full advantage of them. If you're watching American Idol this year, I call it the "Melinda Syndrome." One of the contestants, Melinda Doolittle, has been singing background vocals for several years, and had no idea that she was "good enough" to be a solo star in her own right. How amazing to watch her emerge from her safety zone in the background and discover that she is indeed star material. It's about time for me to step out like Melinda and stand in the spotlight of my own life for a change! If only these cobwebs could be handled as neatly as those lurking in the corners of my ceilings and doorways. But it will take more than a quick sweep with the feather duster to eradicate these complex concerns. Hopefully the spring sun will illuminate more than dust bunnies, and shine some new insight into my life.

photo from here

Write On Wednesday-Blocked

I've tried all my usual tricks~reading my favorite "writers on writing," taking a long walk in the park, playing some Mozart at the piano, uncorking a new bottle of Shiraz straight from Australia~nothing's working. You would think after almost a week of not writing that my mind would be bursting with things to say, that words would be foaming up in the well of my imagination, that ideas would be fighting their way through my fingers and onto the page. Not so.

In fact, I believe I'm suffering from writer's block, and it's really quite frightening.

Since I started writing on a regular basis about a year ago, I've never been at a loss for ideas. On the contrary, I usually had more things to say than I had time to say them. Admittedly, my life in the past few weeks has not been at all conducive toward the gestation of creative ideas. It's actually been quite emotionally and physically draining, so I've been telling myself that this creative dry spell is normal under the circumstances.

It's more than just not feeling like writing...I've been there many times, thinking back to the NaNoWriMo days, when I was determined to get those 50,000 words on the screen by the end of the month. Somehow, just getting in front of the page, letting a few words trickle on to the screen, acted like priming the pump, and the words would then begin to flow until I was treading through waves of them.

But today, I really feel like writing, I have that vicseral sensation of wanting to put words down on paper, but the words that come to me aren't satisfying, they don't convey anything like the feelings or ideas they're meant to convey. They seem banal, worthless, just plain bad.

There's a devlish little voice inside of me saying, "Relax, you've had a hard week, just drink your wine, watch American Idol on TV, forget about this whole writing thing...it's dumb anyway. What good is ever going to come of it? Why waste your time?" I have to admit, I'm very tempted to heed that naughty advice. It would certainly be easier to lie on the couch for the remainder of the evening, letting my mind succumb to the mindless entertainment provided by reality shows and reruns.

However, I much prefer the stimulating conversations I've grown accustomed to having with myself, and with all the other writers out in blogland, the friends I've come to know in the past year who use words to make sense of their lives and the world around us. And I'm afraid ~ fearful that my ability to participate in those coversations is on the wane.

Julia Cameron says that an artist's blocks are "artistic defenses against what is perceived (rightly or wrongly) as a hostile environment." She recommends "blasting through the blocks," by thinking about what's holding you back from continuing with your work. "What resentments, anger, fears, might you be suppressing that act like a restraint on your creative thoughts?"

Resentment? I resent never having enough time to write, that's true. Anger? Yeah, I've been angry lately, with the world in general, about a long list of things that range from the trivial to the horrendous, and all of which serve to make life more difficult. Fear? Well, who isn't fearful, in a world gone mad with destruction and hatred? Could these negative emotions have solidifed into creative roadblocks that derail imagination and spirit? And, if so, how do I "blast through them," allowing a passageway back to creative thought and expression?

In the past few weeks, circumstances have collided, making me feel as if life were completely out of control. Perhaps I need to take the reins of my life in a postive way in order to start chipping away at those blocks of resentment, anger, and fear. Perhaps then I can open the door and welcome all the words back into my head.

So, how about you? Have you ever felt your creative spirit blocked by resentment, anger, or fear? How did you "blast through the block?"