That's not what I wanted to be reporting, but there we are.
My Small Intimate Online Proprioceptive Writing Group also has one week to go. I started it as an experiment, not knowing how things would play out. Six writers with gorgeously rich lives, aspirations, talents and devotion and discipline signed up.
Yes, I said devotion and discipline, they do go together. They have proved to be undeniably necessary to, and supportive of, each other. Well, let me revise that. You can have discipline without devotion, though I don't, and I doubt it's much fun. But--and here's the big discovery for me--you can't really have devotion without discipline. If you do, it's a pretty limp rag and not likely to get you to the church on time. What I mean by discipline is not a harsh thing, but it may mean doing what I don't feel like at the moment. What I mean by discipline is Willingness. I could say more about that, but I'll let it stand there.
Anyway, we have had the best time, the seven of us. At least I have. And the six writers also seem to have flourished working in this blend of solitude and companionship, writing for themselves, but with the awareness of silent listeners. In this practice, we give and take so much from one another. It's a beautiful thing.
The other big thing I'm learning from my experience reading and responding to each Write as it arrives on the computer is this: I may think I don't know how to do it, or what to say. I may be completely drawing a blank. It may feel that way. But that doesn't have to be the stopping point, the final word. It happens when I step in. Then it starts to open up. I hope I can embrace and remember this piece of real empirical knowledge so at all the other times I am looking at a creative challenge and feel blank and empty and listless, I will hear a voice whisper---
"Go on, say something, do something, write something. It happens when you step in. Then it starts to open up. Remember?"
Very interesting about devotion and discipline.
ReplyDeleteAs for drawing a blank but not quitting then, I wonder if the voice needs to be so demanding. Would it also work to just sit there quietly, gently, with no expectations, and allow the opening up to happen?
I miss you on days when you don't appear. You've hooked us (me) with that old intermittent reinforcement.
Alas, I have gained several pounds.
That might work, Sara, just sitting there quietly, gently with no expectations. I just haven't learned how to do that without the taint of frustration or despair, but it would definitely be worth experimenting with.
ReplyDeleteI sent myself an article from the NY Times this morning with 101 recipes for delicious summer salads. Looked like a cool way to make light suppers for the next month. Of course, we'd also want some good crusty French bread to go with them, I guess. Why don't you come visit and we'll make some.
yes, I hate to think of this as ending!
ReplyDeleteAha, for me it's the "go on, do something" that is tainted (or worse) with frustration and despair. Maybe the real difference is in our associations with the words. Such is their power.
ReplyDeleteSince my smoothie program was a bust, salads are sounding good. But the French bread, alas, sounds even better . . .
I think it is, Sara, our associations with the words. I hear the whispered "go, do something," as an intimate encouragement. With the subtext of, "Remember our secret?"
ReplyDeleteMaybe you and Jenny could come for a forest visit on the same weekend. We could make salads. How would that be? We've got company this weekend, but pretty open after that.