Need A Jump?

Last month we were at our home in Florida for a few days, and came out of a shopping center to discover our car battery was dead.  Apparently my husband had been sitting in the car listening to the radio with the engine in auxillary mode, which drained what was left of the charge on the car's already failing battery.  Jim carries jumper cables (it's a 10 year old sports car, rarely driven), and he flagged down a nice young man who did his best to jump start the car.  No go.  Reluctantly, Jim called our son away from his work, and he willingly drove over.  They tried jumpstarting it a few more times, without success.  So we had the car towed to the service station, certain there was somthing more seriously awry - a faulty starter perhaps.  The next morning our mechanic called with the news that he had installed a new battery and the car was good as new.  Why hadn't it responded to all those electrical jump starts?  Sometimes, the mechanic told us, the bigger sports car engines just won't respond to the paltry charge provided by a "normal" car.

I don't know whether my brain can be compared to the 400 cubic inch V-8 in our old Trans Am, but for the past few days I've been feeling it was in desperate need of a jump start.  "My thoughts are cranky and resistant," writes Julia Cameron.  "I feel sluggish and irritable.  My body of information feels like that of an out-of-shape athlete. I do not want to write." (The Right to Write)

Every writer's muse occasionally behaves like a recalcitrant two year old - the one who lays down on the floor screaming, "No! I won't! And you can't make me!"  My first thought (with the muse and the two year old) is to respond in kind.  "Oh yes, you will write today, and it better be darn good!"

But wisdom tells us this approach will likely backfire.  Good things rarely come from brute force, do they?  Modern theory advises that the wiser approach with a toddler is to stand back quietly and wait for the tantrum to run its course, without lowering yourself to the child's level. Then firmly and quietly take the wild one by the hand and move them toward your goal. 

Sometimes, when the words don't come, I start to panic, don't you?  As we did with the car, I jump to the conclusion that something is seriously wrong.   It's all over, I tell myself.  I'll never write another word again.  It was just a fling, a fleeting love affair with the page, and now I'm finished. 

 "Try to calm down, get quiet, breathe, and listen," advises Ann Lamott, speaking to writers in Bird By Bird.  "You get your confidence and inspiration back by trusting yourself, by being militantly on your own side.  You get your intuition back when you stop the chattering of the rational mind." 

Certainly the larger the drain on my "writing mind" from outside sources, the more likely it is to stall completely.  Pressure from work or family, worry about health or finances, these are the things that naturally curb a writer's imagination and enthusiasm for the process of getting words onto the page.  Ironically, these are also the times when writing's healing power can be most valuable, when coming to the page with worries and concerns can rejuvenate the spirit and even illuminate possible solutions to those pressing concerns.

Because I don't write "for a living," it's easy to indulge these periods of creative lethargy.  So what, I finally say in exasperation.  Who cares whether I write anything or not?  And off I go to the television, bag of chips in hand.

Of course, that won't do my writing mind (or my hips!) the least bit of good.  Exercising the mind is a lot like exercising the body - sometimes, you simply have to "just do it," whether you "feel like it" or not.  "You must attend to your work daily," writes Barbara De Marco. (Pen On Fire) "It takes sheer persistence...and stamina to heft the burden of fear...as you make your way along the path to being a writer." 

Sometimes it's a simple as just putting a  few words on paper.  Sometimes, reading good writing - a favorite author or poet - provides the impetus to create.  Physical activity - a walk in the park, a swim, whatever revs your heart rate might send a spark to ignite the muse. 

So, how about you?   Do you ever feel the need to jump start your writing? What drains the energy from your "writing mind"?  What do you do when your creative battery dies? 

You can write a post on your blog, leaving a comment with a link, or simply leave your complete response in the comments section.  Write On Wednesday is open all week, in case you need some time to get your writing mind in gear <smiles>

A Loss For Words

I'm curiously at a loss for words this week, which is ironic given the theme of my latest project.  And perhaps I should save this post for Write On Wednesday, especially given the way I'm feeling right now, which is virtually inspiration-less. But I'm sitting here at my dining room table, the window pushed open full tilt, the backyard grass dappled with shadows from the red maple tree, the one I'll never cut down no matter how dangerously close to the house it grows, and I hear the cicadas for the first time this summer.  I usually connect them with really hot weather, that murderous, relentless heat which sometimes comes late in July and August, the kind of weather that always surprises Michiganders, offends us I think, since we're used to the general temperance of this state's climate in summer.  But they're out there singing already, or whatever it is cicadas do, that incessant buzz which crescendos to a fever pitch before it stops, suddently, as if someone has clamped a lid on it. 

 I sit, and stare, chin propped on my hand, and let the sound of cicadas wash over me.  I watch a butterfly flit merrily to and fro in the tall grass of the orchard, and notice a friend join him as they swoop easily among the weeds.  My eyes are drawn upward, past the stand of pines whose tips are completely invisible, nearly tall enough to poke the fat bellies of those cumulus clouds stalled overhead, and out beyond the first fence toward the poplar tree, whose branches ripple like waves in the azure sky.  Their soughing reaches the house, a gentle shush of sound, whose wake sets my wind chimes in motion, their alto notes a gentle a-minor chord progression, a monkish call to worship from some early age.

I am calmed, and soothed, and eased.

So, who needs words?

Write On Wednesday

This week Write On Wendesday asks (read the entire prompt here): Are you ever assailed with self doubt about your writing ability, or about the reasons for writing at all?  Do you “follow yourself around nagging and suggesting and complaining”? What are some of the negative things your Editor tells you?  What could your Editor say to be more encouraging?   How do you encourage yourself to keep practicing the craft of writing?

If you've been reading this blog of mine for long, you'll know I'm always feeling behind the eight ball with regard to time - having enough of it to go 'round and complete all the things on my "to do" list.  Work responsibilities, music rehearsals and performances, elder care...fitting in time with husband, friends...getting the household chores done...ad infinitum.

So why am I spending so much time writing?  Or thinking about writing? Or doing research for writing?  Or writing about writing?  nags the complaining voice that dogs my steps.  Look at all the time you're wasting.  It's not as if you were getting paid for it!

Ah ha!  There's the most persistent of the nagging thoughts, especially these days when money is at such a premium in my house.  How can I justify spending so much time in an activity that provides no monetary recompense?  Huh?  How can I?

As much as my Puritan forefathers would deny it, I believe in the value of activites which are self fulfilling and creative, activities that enrich the spirit and the mind- whether or not they enrich the pocket book.  Certainly writing does that for me.  Since I've been writing regularly, I feel my thoughts expanding and my confidence growing. I see myself looking at the world throught a different lens, more aware of its natural beauty, while increasing my interest in the relationships between people and the space they occupy.  I'm excited by these changes.  They multiply upon themselves, these rewards of writing, and I've come to consider my writing practice a good investment in self development.   

I must remind myself of that, and often, especially when that nagging voice starts whining in my ear.  But when I sit down to write, when I allow words to tumble out of my head and onto the page, the sensations of relief, excitement, and satisfaction, encourage my heart (and pen!) to keep writing.

A Writer? Who, Me?

Reading through all  the phenomenal reponses to last week's prompt - the poetry, photography, the heartfelt reflections - I found myself more and more amazed by the creative thinking you all expressed.  One after the other, you amazed me with the level of awareness you demonstrated, and the varied focal points that direct your creative lives.  On a couple of occasions, I found myself so excited by what I was reading I jumped up from the computer and sat down at the piano, feeling a need to release some of that energy in a physical way that only pounding out a Beethoven piano sonata can do. But, then it hit me.  Suddenly I was paralyzed, stopped dead in my tracks across the keyboard.  What the heck am I doing?  I thought in a panic.  Who am I to ask people - especially people as talented and creative as all of you are - to talk about their writing?  After all, what do I - a humble housewife and office worker, who dabbles in wordplay - have to say about the writing process that could be of value to anyone?

Self-doubt assailed me.

Writer's are notorious for doubting themselves, aren't they? Certainly we're all familiar with stories of the depressed writer, slugging gin and downing pills in an effort to stimlulate the muse. Unlike other creative work, the fruits of a writer's labor aren't immediately visible.  We work away at putting words on paper, and in the end what do we have to show for it?  Anyone can put words on paper, we think.  What's so special about that?  Where do we get off thinking our words are better than those of the average joe sitting on the bar stool next to us?  What's so special about our vision of the world, our ideas, our little storylines?

 Natalie Goldberg calls this voice "The Editor," and says "the more clearly you know it, the better you can ignore it."  Write down what that Editor keeps saying, Goldberg advises, so you recognize those thoughts for what they are, simply "prattle in the background" of your mind, and can dismiss them as easily as you would the "distant sound of white laundry flapping in the wind."  Unless you do, it will take over your creative thoughts and smother them as effectively as a wet blanket does a flame.  Instead, Goldberg continues, "have a sense of tenderness and determination toward your writing, a sense of humor and deep patience that you are doing the right thing."  (Writing Down the Bones)

Dorothea Brande also recommends a sense of tenderness toward your writing, a warm acceptance of your ability and the importance of putting words on the page.  "Don't follow yourself around nagging and suggesting and compaining," she scolds.  "Hold your own good work up to yourself as a standard...keep a friendly, critical eye on your progress."  (On Becoming A Writer)

I like the idea of being "tender" toward my writing, of "keeping a friendly eye on my progress."  Ultimately, I have to believe that my "vision of the world" has meaning, even if for no one other than myself,  that the process of putting my thoughts and emotions on paper in the form of stories and essays is a worthwhile practice, and one that benefits my mind and spirit.  Like the practice of yoga, where we come with "a willful determination but without pressure to be perfect," the practice of writing helps us work toward expressing our minds and hearts in a beautiful and meaningful way.

Goldberg quotes Chogyam Trungpa, a Tibetan Buddhist master, as saying: "We must continue to open in the face of tremendous opporistion.  No one is encouraging us to open and still we must peel away the layers of the heart." 

As we Write On Wendesdays, perhaps we can encourage each other to open our hearts and trust our own voices as we progress in this practice of writing.

 How about you?  Are you ever assailed with self doubt about your writing ability, or about the reasons for writing at all?  Do you "follow yourself around nagging and suggesting and complaining"? What are some of the negative things your Editor tells you?  What could your Editor say to be more encouraging?   How do you encourage yourself to keep practicing the craft of writing?

The Crazy Side

Just finished watching the latest episode of Army Wives, one of the few TV shows I watch regularly.  In this episode, one of the "wives," a nurse at the post hospital, receives an unexpected gift from a patient-his beloved motorcycle.  As a double amputee, he figures he won't be riding anytime soon, and Denise has shared joyful memories of her youthful riding experiences with him. Denise's character is quite conventional - her husband is a bit of a brute, and her decision to return to work as a nurse caused huge upheaval in their relationship.  She's reluctant to ride the motorcycle, and leaves it sitting in the hospital parking garage where she stops to admire it daily.  One day, a handsome young doctor rides in on his own bike, and they strike up a conversation.  She admits the bike is "hers," even though she hasn't ridden it yet.

"I don't even have a license!" she says.

"License!" he scoffs. "Who needs a license?  You've got a crazy bone somewhere in you, don't you?"

"Oh no," she demurs, "I don't think I do."

"Sure you do," he says with a wicked grin. "Everybody does."

Hmm, I caught myself thinking. 

Where the hell has my crazy bone gone to?

Truly, I haven't done a crazy thing in God only knows when.  The last remotely crazy thing I did...see, I can't remember one.  I haven't even gone out speeding driving in my car with the windows down and the radio blasting since way last summer.  I've been limiting myself to one glass of wine a day, going to bed at 11:30 every night - what could be less crazy than the life I've been living?

There's been a restless yearning in my heart lately, a "need for speed" - not just physical speed, but a desire to feel a heart racing excitement, an adrenaline rush, a fist-pumping acclamation.  The emotional equivalent of that wind in your face feeling you might get doing 80 mph on a Harley.

Don't you think we should indulge our crazy bones once in a while?  Cut loose from that oh-so-responsible person who always does the right thing, shows up for work on time, follows all the rules, tries to be nice and helpful and good?

Today, I met with my aunt and uncle, both in their 80's.  He's suffering from Alzheimer's, she's a cancer survivor who's battling crippling arthritis.  They continue to live independently, in the home they purchased  back in 1954.  A few weeks ago, a man followed them home from the bank and robbed her as she was unlocking the back door to the home that has been their sanctuary for the past 54 years.  Now, she's afraid to leave the house.  He has no recollection of what happened, no matter how many times she relives the story. 

Talk about living on the crazy side.

Of course, it's not that kind of crazy I'm looking for. 

What I am looking for is an opportunity to enjoy life, to indulge my "crazy bone" in case fate intervenes and casts a shadow of true insanity upon my existence.

Anybody know where I can get a good deal on a Harley?