Here I am, fixated on closing a story for the second time. The first closing opened new doors. Funny how that works. This welcome weight I have hoisted over my shoulders, carrying it on end much like a Scottish games competitor, I am working desperately for the sake of my sanity to bring closure to this story again. Now my focus is a twelve-foot maple tree trunk I need to throw as far as possible. Without damaging anything.
My focus is damaged. It just is. I have no explanation. It reminds me of the astigmatism I used to have in both eyes – I had Lasik. Unfortunately, Lasik doesn’t sharpen conscious thought. It morphs from one form to another without warning, sometimes holding my subconscious hostage as my superego tells it it’s not very nice and should stop that. Yeah, that superego is too gentle, too nice, too outside of my general area of focus. Is that what it is? Attention deficit?
As I sit here tapping out S-O-S in Morse code, for all the wrong trivial reasons, I am crystalizing my ideas, my intent to close the story, or at least current storyline. That more than likely is the thing that is stirring my brain non-stop: the story is not meant to be short. It has become a living entity, and I need to nurture it some more before I drop it off a cliff where it will return to its primordial ooze state of self-being. Or as I like to call it, the slime found on smooth rocks covered in algae and mollusks. What am I writing?
I like your post and when you strip out the imagery , you seem to be coming to terms with more production. I like the way your brain is working here... it seems to be looking for ways to explain your productivity. This is a good outlet to explain the aesthetic quality to what you write and I think it is important. It is this place that you will find ideas for articles, things to explore and search out in other writing and ideas. My mentor at WCSU (Cecilia Woloch) taught me some very valuable lessons about writing about books, my writing, and creativity as a mode of expanding my vision of how I write, how I participate in the world of books, and how I can contribute beyond my creative writing. She allowed me to question books, ideas, styles, and themes - she also allowed creativity and experimentation. She was strict about the writing - it has to be clear, but she was so gracious with letting me speak about books and writing.
ReplyDeleteHaving said that - I think writers need to react and speak about (not only what write) the craft and the ideas that inspire and draw them in. In The Road to Xanadu, an old book about Coleridge,it is mentioned that what we read of his work is only the best ten percent of his work. Imagine what fragments and ideas he had in his notebooks, his library, and his manuscripts. On a similar note, Franz Kafka has a whole apartment filled with work - possible a few short stories that is being held by his agents girl friend - and while they are desperate to get into the writing that could be there, she refuses to archive it and take care of it. So, it is a battle to see where his legacy lands and if we will see more work come from that.
My point is - this may seem a bit outside your normal voice or ideas, but it may develop into something new, something important. And embedded here is your muse saying "the story is not meant to be short. It has become a living entity, and I need to nurture it some more..." or "Here I am, fixated on closing a story for the second time. The first closing opened new doors. Funny how that works." I am very impressed with this experimental and creative place and voice. It tells me so much.
Be well. Ron
Awesome, thanks Ron. Lots to ponder here, but I get your point. I like experimenting with writing, some of my earlier fiction carried this feel. I think I will revisit it in upcoming works when appropriate.
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