Writing for Real

 I'm never quite sure how to answer when people ask what I "do."  Of course, I know they'e really asking what I do for a living, so I usually take the easy way out and say I'm an adminisrative assistant, or perhaps I'll say I'm an admin and a musician. I never say I'm a writer.

Why is that?  Since I began blogging a couple of years ago, I've logged nearly as many hours at this keyboard as I have at my office computer, and certainly more than I've spent at the ivories.  I've written over 600 blog posts, completed two novellas, and dozens of poems and haiku.

But none of my friends (aside from all of you) and only a few of my family members have any idea that I've been doing all this scribbling in my spare time.

So why am I hoarding this little secret? 

Is it because I don't consider myself a "real writer?"  What does it take to be a "real writer"?

In the past, it's been easier for me to define myself as a musician, because people listen to my music. The reward of playing for an audience is immediate and intoxicating. You see their reaction in the smiles on their faces, you feel their involvement in the energy that pervades the room, you hear their enjoyement in the excited applause. I admit that I love that instant reaction, that feeling of providing the audience with something that entertains and enlightens them.  But I've recently curtailed a lot of my musical activities, and for the first time in many years, I'm going into the fall season without any musical responsibilites other than my church choir.  Cutting back on my musical involvement was deliberate, a way to give myself more time to pursue other activities- like writing.

The writer's "product"~the essay, the story, the poem~is "consumed" somewhere else. The feedback is rarely immediate, and sometimes doesn't come at all.  We often must be content with a private sense of accomplishment, the satisfaction of a story well told or a metaphor perfectly placed.  The "real world" rewards - recognition and financial success - are few and far between.

The internet, and specifically the experience of blogging, has changed this scenario.  Suddenly our words can be read by someone, somewhere, who might find them meaningful. However, there are those who don't consider blogging "real writing," decrying it is nothing more than glorified journal keeping.  Personally, I'm thrilled that the internet has provided writers like us with a place to share our stories, our perspective, our experiences, and ~even more exciting~ to engage in a dialogue with other writers. At least in this space, I find myself much more comfortable saying that I am a writer.

Perhaps, some day, I'll be able to say it to the rest of the world as well.

  How about you?  Do you consider yourself a writer? Do you think blogging is "real writing?" What does it take to be a "real writer"?

Stay Eager

Do stuff.  Be clenched, curious.  Not waiting for inspiration's shove or society's kiss on your forehead.  Pay attention.  It's all about paying attention.  Attention is vitality.  It connects you with others.  It makes you eager.  Stay eager.    ~Susan Sontag

I should know better than to title a post with the day of the week...then everytime I look at my blog, I'm reminded how long it's been since I've written anything.

But I also remind myself that writing is not an obligation to be dreaded like grocery shopping, or paying bills, or weeding the garden.  It's the way I honor my observations about life in general (and my own in particular), the way I make sense of a sometimes senseless world, the way I connect with friends all over cyberspace.

It's the way I pay attention.

But I've been a bit attention deficit lately, not paying attention to the bracing aroma of my morning coffee, or the symphony of birdcalls that greet me on the back porch each morning as I take the first sip. Not paying attention to Magic and Molly's exuberant greeting when I return home from work. 

And I haven't been doing stuff  either.   Haven't been riding my bike along the avenue of smooth new blacktopped roads running through our neighborhood.  Haven't been talking with friends over drinks at our favorite outdoor cafe.  Haven't been playing piano for any singers anxious to rehearse. 

So I'm neither vital nor eager.

Eagerness - it's that "on your mark, get set, go!" kind of feeling.  The "can't wait to get started" butterflies in your heart, the chomping at the bit, hooves pawing the ground urgency. 

 I vaguely remember it...

Do you?

A young woman whose work I greatly admire has an inspirational project afloat in the blog world.  It's called Be Brave, and it challenges participants to "do one thing each day that scares you."  One thing about which you would normally shy away, procrastinate, or say "Oh, I couldn't..."

In addition to Being Brave, perhaps we should add Stay Eager to our list of personal challenges. Pay attention to the things that exicte us, and find new things when old familiar ones begin to pale. 

I'll be on the lookout for some.

I'll keep you posted.

So, how about you? Have you been Paying Attention?  How do you Stay Eager?

Coming Alive

Don't ask yourself what the world needs.
Ask youself what makes you come alive, and then go do it.
Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.
~Harold Thurman Whitman
Each time I come across these words, I feel an electric shock run down my spine.     
                                  
They remind me that the world, myself included sometimes, is filled with people going through the motions of their days, finding no joy, no deep indwelling sense of satisfaction or accomplishment, nothing that created the feeling of life abundantly lived.  So these words prod and poke me, nudge me to search for the things that generate a creative spark in my soul.
They confronted me this morning when I opened my copy of Foolsgold, by Susan G. Woolridge (author of Poemcrazy).  Another day in my office beckons, a day of paper shuffling and organizing, a day of sifting through piles of medical records and information.  Nothing about the prospect of this day makes me come alive.

But I recognize that I'm luckier than most~I've achieved half the battle to follow that credo.  I, at least, have found the things that make me come alive.

Certainly, writing is one of them.

Foolsgold promises to help me "find the artist within by cultivating a creative lifestyle that will not only expand and inspire you, but may also ground and heal you."  A "creative lifestyle" is what interests me here.  In the past months, as I've come to realize how much writing means to me, I've allowed it to play a bigger role in my inner life.  Yet I keep it tucked in the cupboard of my lifestyle, afraid to let it play in the daylight hours, only taking it out when I've completed all the other, less livening activities. 

Perhaps in order to start living that "fully alive" life the world needs, I must allow creativity to permeate my entire lifestyle, not just those few "off hours" when the regular work is done.

What does that mean in practical terms? I'm not sure. It could mean branching out in my writing activities, going "beyond the blog" and taking a creative writing class or reading a poem on poetry night at my local coffee house.  Maybe it means looking for other avenues of musical expression - learning a new instrument or joining a new group.  Perhaps it could be taking up a new activity entirely - working with paper crafts or collage.  I'm quite sure it means taking another step outside the safe little box I've erected around my current creative efforts.

"Coming alive" also means "paying attention," being aware of those things that startle you with their beauty or meaning.  Sometimes they're as simple as the wind rushing through the trees in your own backyard, or as complex as a perfectly crafted poem by Keats or the intricate movement of a fugue by Bach.  It means being aware and being reverent to the world around us, and, for those of us who write, attempting to convey that sense of wonder to our readers.
It will be a journey, this "coming alive" process.

I'll keep you posted.

How about you? How do you cultivate creativity in your life?  Have you found the things that make you come alive? Are you doing them? Shouldn't you be?
 
*wordpress is being very creative (and stubborn!) with the fonts in this post...enjoy the variety, because there seems to be nothing I can do about it!

Monday Musings

After a rather long, non productive weekend, I was hoping Monday would find me feeling more energetic, more ready to roll up my shirt sleeves and take on the world. No such luck.

I've been curiously lethargic of late, a feeling I can usually trace to a lack of scheduled activity or responsibility.  I realize I need the impetus of deadlines and appointments to keep my metabolism going, and without them I sink into this torpor of inactivity.  I was moping around the house yesterday, needing to do something and not feeling like doing anything.

"Can't you just relax?" my husband (the master of relaxation) asked me. "After all, you worked every day last week, you deserve some time to just chill out."

"I don't do relaxing very well," I admitted.  "It makes me kind of mad."

Jim just shook his head sorrowfully.  "I'm doomed," he said under his breath, returning to his spot in front of the television.

I do feel mad at myself when I'm not being productive...not writing, not practicing, not exercising, not cleaning or cooking or caring for some elderly relative, not playing with the dogs, or brushing them or walking them, not doing something.

Yet while my mind spins furiously with all these things I should do and should want to do, my body feels awfully stubborn about remaining perched in one spot, complaining with increased aches and stiffness about gardneing or biking, invoking extra effort to read with eyes that can no longer bring fine print into focus.  

Today started out brightly enough  - I did walk the dogs, make some phone calls, settle in to write (right on schedule!)  Yet now that the morning is coming to an end, the prospect of a long afternoon stretches before me and I'm feeling a bit directionless.

As we head toward preparations for back to school, I realize this is the first time in over 10 years that I have no musical "calendar" for the coming year.  Scaling back on my musical group participation was deliberate, a way to give myself more flexibility and time to concentrate on other activities.  But now I feel pressure to use that time productively, and I'm not quite sure how to do that, or if I'm up to the task.  And I'll admit there's a certain sadness that comes with the loss of that venue of self expression.  There's also a void in my social life at the moment, since the majority of my friendships revolve around musical activities. 

All told, I suppose it's no surprise that I'm a bit like a lost lamb these days.

Wish me luck as I work my way back to the flock.