Uggghhhh…. when I’m up late writing a post like the one I wrote last night – part confessional, part longing, part missive, part train wreck – I wake up almost feeling groggy and hung over from the experience. Like who did I drunk dial last night and what did I say…? I usually spend the morning, as I have so far, re-reading, editing, adding, deleting. The impetus was an honest one. The strange feeling of having an experience (sharing the song) that never happened or wanting that experience to happen seemed like it was worth writing about. In fact, the song section was the first thing I wrote, and then I went back and added in the stuff about work and groceries and cooking and being mad.
I never consider those posts to be very good. I don’t think the writing is particularly interesting or the thoughts all that new. I often feel a little embarrassed by them. For all of those reasons and more – I write them anyway. I don’t mind practicing saying things that make me feel embarrassed. I often hope that the ideas, however mundane, might later spark a poem or something deeper. Sometimes, I’ve had posts that started off one way and ended up leading me to some reading or deeper understanding or bigger statement. And yes, there’s a therapeutic aspect to all of it, but more importantly, writing every day and getting things out often has the effect of creating room for other things. This practice has allowed me to produce, revisit, rework, but then also move on to producing something else (which may or may not be of value). I used to be amazed by writers who seem to have an endless stack of poems, or seem to be able to compose all the time. I remember one of my professors telling us that it might take us an entire day to come up with one good sentence. I sometimes write about whatever it is I’m feeling in the moment to simply put words together, let one follow the other, march their way from the voice in my head to my fingers to the keyboard. I used to believe that writing needed to be inspired, and that the writer goes about their day or their week or their month waiting for inspiration to strike. I’m slowly learning the value of forcing myself to write. For one, that inspiration seems to come more frequently. But, I’m also finding that when I sit down to do something more creative, my mind is more ready and eager to jump in…
Usually after writing a post like last night’s, I also think about how to refocus my writing energy. I’ll often dive in to some new reading, or will intentionally try to write something creative to balance out the blather (though this post is neither of those things). I’ll also revisit those posts and think about audience a bit more. Are there sections that were written with certain people in mind? I find that my first drafts usually have that problem. Part of my revision process, is to re-write those sections for me if it’s a confessional style, or rewrite for a more general audience if I’m trying to use my experience to state something bigger.
Feelings, thoughts, emotions, logic, internal dialogue – these are all things that bring characters to life and help others connect through shared experiences and language. That’s one of the other reasons that I practice the way that I do. It’s important (for me) to pay attention to how the mind flits from one thing to the next. It’s important (for me) to see where the gaze lands a listen to what the mind is trying to say. I ask myself a lot of questions when I write – I think this helps me when I’m out in the world of others. It’s nearly impossible to understand how someone else’s mind works. It’s even harder to understand that if you never attempt to understand how your own mind works. I’m finding allowing the inner voice a bit more space is also teaching me to consider all the other voices and possibilities. When I force myself to consider all of my unique experiences, which are not terribly unique, I come to a different level of understanding the world – which seems as worthy a pursuit as money, fame, productivity… it’s a type of love and knowledge (of self and other) that’s easy to neglect and/or overlook.