My editting brain and my creating brain don't exactly communicate. This has been brought to bear in the past 24 hours where I went through four versions of a poem and couldn't come up with a daily poem to write. I have this half urge to just put the editted ones into the 30:30 and be done with it. Folks might stir, though.,
Natalie Goldberg remains one of my favourite authors on writing (yes, John, I used that extra u! There will be no dalliances between o and r in my writing!). That said, I started a book I've been intending to read for some time now - A Passion for Narrative,
by Jack Hodgins. I haven't read far enough to know what I think of it, but I know a goodly number of folks who swear by the thing to imagine it worth my while. I'm almost done Stephen King's On Writing: a memoir of the craft
(don't sue me if that title is wrong, it's off the top of my head).
I think a large problem I'm having lately is this crisis of faith I keep speaking of. I read my writing and read other people's writing, and I really wonder how to compare what I've done. Now, I know intellectually that I can't compare in the strictest of senses - we've all got our own voices. What I want to know, though, is that mine is strong enough to hold it's own. I did Nano last fall and all I can think is I've produced a piece - a rather large piece - of drivel. Do others read my work and have the same insecurities? In the end public or peers shall decide. I don't want to know I suck, which probably indicates a fear of failure.
Writing is exhausting. I know many people who can't understand that. They go to work, they come home, they watch television or crank their tunes, but they can't understand how this simple act of communication can suck the life right out of you. I often say I try for a body feel when I write. When I'm in the moment, I can feel it - it's a breathless, bouyant state where I am little more than a cipher for the words.
Some years ago now I sang in a mass choir at a local performance centre. It was terrifying nad exhilarating all at once to be up on stage in front of all those people. There was one song we sang acapella, leading in to an instrumental piece. I remember how, if we did it right, the last notes were so resonant that it felt like you might pass out if you couldn't sit down right then when the orchestra came in. /That/
is what writing is often like for me.
How about you?