Sunday, July 10, 2016

reading is fundamental

remember that commercial? RIF. advocacy for reading, right on tv. ha.

i told myself instead of "training" to apply for an MFA (i.e. reading my ass off) for the next year to catch up to all the new college grads who've been reading for the last 10 years, i would just read for fun. not work. if it's fun it's not work, and that's just better for everybody.

goodreads is a good place to cache reading progress. it's kind of win-win to me, who has been out of the game all these years, because i get to see my progress and also leave a thoughtful review. that counts as writing practice as far as i'm concerned.

i was watching a tina turner video earlier this morning of her chanting some buddhist chants for peace and calm. is there a chant for writers?

i know, i know, our chant is the lull of fingers striking the keys. this should bring cosmos out of chaos (read Madeleine L'Engle's book Walking on Water sometime) and the well replenishes itself.

my diversion of the moment is the paris review's art of fiction. i love these articles because of the insight into writers' lives. it's almost like a "how to" for me to study.

off to chant.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

About that writing life

woke up early. want to write. don't necessarily want to write the story i've been reading at writer's group. that story seems over. but i want to finish SOMEthing.

so here i am in my journal.

i'm hungry.
i'm procrastinating.

look at me, being all professional!
this is how all pros do it, i'm told.

all the great authors...can't say they ALL didn't have internet, distractions.

i'm just gonna write it and get it over with. i kinda wanna explore my idea for a middle-aged biddies' book club that decides to read bad books like the satanic bible and forbidden stuff.

but i don't know any bad books or forbidden stuff.

has the internet given me ADD?

i need tea.

ok, next scene.

i put my glasses on. i take my glasses off. i have to be able to see the page. i am still operating under the delusion that i need my glasses to "get to work." but i am now at the stage in life of having to take my glasses off to see anything within arm's reach.

my pencil smells like sex. deep. spicy.

now i have to conjure up all the favorite women writers i can think of. imagining them using all their excuses to stop the pencil moving on the paper. stop the keys from clicking. FOR VALID REASONS. (more tea, looking up a thing online, underwear are uncomfortable, something's going on outside, was that a notification on my phone? chips.)

how did they stay on track? maya angelou used to rent an apartment just for writing and sprawl across the bed on her stomach and write longhand for three hours.

tried that. back hurts and i keep checking my phone.

how did erica jong slog thru the brilliant fear of flying? it reads like a stream of genius consciousness.

tried that. i'm dumb.

how did amy tan stay focused enough to do research day after day, when it stopped being fun? how does anne rice stay the course, does she babble drivel in her notebook, does she draw hearts that say "anne + idris elba 4-eva?" or run her pencil along the metal loops to listen to the clicks....

such large and diverse books these women produced, to keep focused on. they're large to me, these books. these women seem like superheroes. how do they do it without grass or speed. being straight-edge is so very boring sometimes.

i'm good for about two paragraphs a day, and of those i can get two solid sentences.

my attention span withers.

i'm still hungry.

i have no personal goal set. this must be my problem. i need someone to tell me when i can stop writing, because...

i'm getting in a canoe on lake superior thinking i might go to the orient, but i have no idea how fucking deep and cold this lake is. that's probably a good thing.

i'll end up in mackinaw city, trading furs.

(and get really tired of fudge.)

land is nowhere to be seen, i'll just keep going.

if i don't sink.
if i don't get scurvy.
or die of frostbite. --- shit, those are horrible ifs.

i'm a voyageur. look at me voyaging.

Friday, April 17, 2015

The Paris Review archives are one of my favorite things to read. Such a fount of inspiration and learning! This interview with E.L. Doctorow is stupendous.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

american literature dot com

american literature
for american short stories. this is all the stuff you were supposed to read in school, but ended up just copying someone else's notes instead, then wrote the paper in five minutes and forgot everything about it. typically, i'm not a fan of the american short story, but i am working on that. there's lots to chomp on, enjoy.


i'm back. ready to put more little daily delights up. this is my repository of things that enchant and inspire. tiny, sweet morsels to enhance the day-to-day. so...with that, how about a trip to another website? this should keep us all occupied for a little while

Thursday, September 22, 2011

a poety sort of day

in the mood for some poety music today, started a new poem this morning. here's my inspiration:

i think this video is a bit odd, but the version i liked better has disabled embedding.

the saddest song on the earth, i almost didn't put it here. it makes me weep.

i like rufus' voice better than cohen's. it's grittier.

i was surprised that i liked kd lang's version so much, considering how much i love grittier, more unconventional voices. she destroyed this song (in a good way).

soul stirrers are my favorite.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

my bible study

daily worries & laundry have a way of sneaking in & taking hold, telling your creativity that it's just not needed at this time, please check back later. then your creativity has to file for underemployment & it gets cranky & peevish and then won't return your calls.

i've been feeling the effects of this for some months now. most of it is my own doing. i have chosen to take appointments with worry instead, and reschedule creativity for an undisclosed later date. "when i feel like it."

you can only put up with creativity deficiency for so long, tho. it really starts to make you ugly.

i've recently decided to get back to private bible study, as i have done in years past every morning. i'm trying to many years has it been since i've actively read my bible? six years? luckily for me, god is gracious & merciful and somehow i've been makeup videos? trying to squeeze the face of god out of forensics shows on tv? does god go to starbucks?

i went to bed a few days ago on the verge of tears and just really spiritually wiped out. i felt smeared on the pavement. altho i am healthy, i've been struggling with worry & anxiety over issues that are beyond my control. how do you deal with stuff that you want to control but obviously cannot? my tack is to worry about it obsessively and let it control my every waking thought. not a good strategy. so i was just wrung right the hell out the other nite after entertaining these doom thoughts for so very, very long.

i remembered that when i was a teenager i struggled badly with anxiety and so i turned to psalms every nite before i went to bed. reading praise passages reminded me that god created everything and was in everything, and after a year or so of reading praises to god, i got thru my insomnia and free floating anxiety.

so the other nite i laid down in bed and cracked an old worn bible with no cover on it, a gift from a friend who had cleaned out her late mother's house. it increases my faith to see other's faith in action, in this case, a worn out bible with crinkled edges. i decided to open the book & read the first thing that my eyes hit.

to my complete joy and gratefulness, it was psalms 107. it was MINE. i knew that he sees past my laziness & weakness, and that i matter. he knows my anxieties and faithlessness and "should know betters" and excuses, and time wasters and diversions...and yet he still loves me and still wants my time & attention.

i know because of this part: (4,5,6) they wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in. hungry & thirsty, their soul fainted in them. then they cried unto the lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses.

i was so grateful to read that, my soul drank it in like a kid that barges in the kitchen in summer, slamming the door & slugs back an entire glass of water. that was me for so long, so many months, wandering around with my thumb up my butt, wondering when i would feel grounded and safe. burdened with worry, my soul almost completely dry, and my spirit...where was my spirit? asleep? i knew that we should read the bible, and that we should commune with god daily; he wants to hear our troubles, he knows them anyway, but he wants communion with us, so his spirit can help us. so our spirits don't dry up & wither away with each tiny worry that takes our attention away from our awesome journey here.

but i let my worries be more important, and i would get around to bible study, communing with god, "when i felt like it." this does no good for the creative soul. we are made in his image, in his likeness. we must create, it is in us to do this. part of us, like our organs & our blood. yet i was denying it daily, and days turned into years. then i was so parched & one & nothing else can renew you like god's word. because it is a living thing, it is always fresh.

thank god for psalms, and for people of faith. "be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind." romans 12:2.

anyway, onto more talk about creativity (genesis 1)next time. this post is gargantuan. xo