I wrote more at Khardoma than I have at any other PW outing. I've already made revisions to The Flowing Well, put a short piece about my dogs in my computer, and revised a couple of other pieces.
Lee asked about place affecting our writing. I think from the standpoint of everyone else working so hard, I had to write too. But where I am doesn't change what I write or how I write. I may be inspired by an experience in a new location, but that's not the same.
What I need and get from the writing community at our gatherings is feedback, a chance to help and be helped, to understand I'm not the only one struggling to keep at it. I learn new ways to say things.
Sarah talked about seeing things differently. I hope by seeing wildflowers, geese, ducklings, etc. that I can help others appreciate the same things. When I revisit a bait shop or fish a creek as I remember it, I keep the everchanging unchangeable. Houses, paving and strip malls cover most of the places I explored as a kid and the people who taught me are gone. By writing about them they live on and help me deal with the real loss of place and childhood. It's more than fitting the forget-me-nots grew along my favorite creek.
Vincent Van Gogh and Georgia O'Keefe both painted flowers, but their visions and interpretations were very different.
Both Trish's and Sue's pieces, along with many others, touched me. I have a 19-year-old son in college and my grandpa had horses. There's so much passion in the writing we heard.
Thanks to everyone in my group for their kind and helpful comments and to everyone who shared their vulnerability with us. I think that's where we might be the most different with non-artists. We're not afraid to expose ourselves, to show our deepest emotions, fears, or sorrows.
I came home with a new invigoration to write.
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4 comments:
"I came home with new invigoration to write."
Me too! Having a large chunk of time to write was wonderful--and difficult at first. When the writing was difficult, I kept wanting to get up and walk away. I had to FORCE myself to stay in the chair and work it through. By the second day, I didn't have near as much of that. Maybe it is because I write in a limited amount of time. It gets tough going and I'm done. By the time I get back to writing--a day later, either the tough spot has resolved itself, or I have forgotten what I was debating and end out writing it a different way.
Neither way is bad, but let me tell you, I sure get a whole lot more written when I can sit in that chair and muscle through!
I think, what I was trying to get at in debriefing--and which I think did become evident in people's comments--is that art (in the broadest sense of the word) does demand a sacrifice. To be able to reflect the human condition, one has to be open to the human condition. And that often means being open to getting hurt. When I write (or draw) if I am doing it well, it is like I become porous, my emotions are right there on the surface, no skin to protect or hide under.
It can be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. The great thing about being with other writers is that they understand this vulnerability. They suggest ways to live and write and create and yet still be open.
Thanks to all of you for such a wonderful, productive, supportive weekend.
Sarah;
Are we more emotional, passionate, or creative "artists," in the broadest sense, than the rest of society? For me, except among others that I trust, I can release my emotions, fears, and losses behind the annonimity of an author. Those who read my published stuff don't know me--will probably never meet me. If I touch them in some way, that's wonderful. If they quit reading and chalk me up as a sentimental old fool living in the past, I don't know it. Either way, I'm safe.
You're right. To lay our souls bare is to risk hurt, rejection, etc. The blow to my esteem and worth as a writer when I lost my column because some young upstart editor had to shore up his ego really hit me hard. The ultimate rejection. Or maybe it's just the young vs old, change vs past conflict.
At least I'm on the road to recovery. One person may control a small part of my income, but he no longer controls my worth.
Larry,
I don't know if we are more emotional, passionate, or creative than the rest of society, but I do think that we as artists are called upon to be mirrors and reflect those things in a way that others can see, relate to.
Readers may never meet you, but yet, if your writing is true, they may "know" you better than many people that meet you. And even better, in the reading your work, they may better know themselves.
Does that make sense? Maybe I'm talking myself in circles here.
"Readers may never meet you, but yet, if your writing is true, they may "know" you better than many people that meet you. And even better, in the reading your work, they may better know themselves."
This makes perfect sense to me and is kind of what I was trying to say Saturday night about touching their feelings/appreciation. You said it much better. I think there are people in PW who know the "real" me better than even my own family. I know I have a different "comfort zone" when I'm with other writers than with family members. It's not as much about trust as it is about understanding our vulnerability.
In real life, we can bury our hurt, disappointment, anger, etc. Readers would see right through us if we tried that in our work.
I woke up this morning with a renewed excitement in writing. I'm hoping to expand the bait shop into a "The Making of a Fisherman" or something along that line as a memoir of growing up and the everchanging journey. May just be for myself, but that's okay too.
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