"It's been an adventurous day. The ship floats but it won't float away." -Robert Pollard (I always thought it was "shit" not ship, but when I googled it, lots of people had it as ship. I'll have to look at the liner notes. Gotta say, I like "shit" better!)
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This past weekend my husband and I went to Ann Arbor to see the Boston Spaceships perform at the Blind Pig and to attend the Michigan Game. Despite Michigan's poor showing, I had an absolutely wonderful time. And I didn't even feel guilty about not writing for 3 days because I was sponging. Soaking in atmosphere, dialog, character, setting. The concert was great, the band tight and loud. I could not sit (or stand) still, my feet just kept wanting to dance. Of course, I second-handedly smoked at least 50 cigarettes, drank enough hard cider to feel very flushed (although, that's really hard to say since it had to be at least 90 degrees in there as well), and whooped and hollered enough that my husband is sure he can hear me on this YouTube Video from the concert.
Throughout the concert, dinner, walking around town, and at the game, I found myself watching people, observing their faces and gestures, listening to what they were saying and their tone of voice. I felt like I was absorbing it, so that at some later date, who knows when, I'll be able to wring it out on the page, and readers will be able to see, taste, smell, and hear it. From the tangy ginger sauce on the Mongolian Stir Fry, to the acrid stench of the cigarette smoke in my hair.
Then there was the driving around a fairly empty Ann Arbor at 2 a.m., lost, but so wound up from music and the excitement of not having to be a responsible parent, that it didn't matter that we were lost. The color of the city takes on different shades and tones at that time of the morning, the sounds are different, even the smells.
Being a fairly goal-oriented person, I have to remind myself that living is a part of writing as well. Yes, I have to put my butt in the chair and write, but yes, I have to get my butt out of the chair now and then and experience things in order to write with a passion.
Where are some of the best places you have absorbed? This summer I did some major sponging when I went to Michigan Adventure with my kids (always a wide variety of people there, plus going anywhere with my kids is a chance to soak up new experiences).
So.... go sponge. Write, live---live, write. Go. And then come back and tell us about it.
Throughout the concert, dinner, walking around town, and at the game, I found myself watching people, observing their faces and gestures, listening to what they were saying and their tone of voice. I felt like I was absorbing it, so that at some later date, who knows when, I'll be able to wring it out on the page, and readers will be able to see, taste, smell, and hear it. From the tangy ginger sauce on the Mongolian Stir Fry, to the acrid stench of the cigarette smoke in my hair.
Then there was the driving around a fairly empty Ann Arbor at 2 a.m., lost, but so wound up from music and the excitement of not having to be a responsible parent, that it didn't matter that we were lost. The color of the city takes on different shades and tones at that time of the morning, the sounds are different, even the smells.
Being a fairly goal-oriented person, I have to remind myself that living is a part of writing as well. Yes, I have to put my butt in the chair and write, but yes, I have to get my butt out of the chair now and then and experience things in order to write with a passion.
Where are some of the best places you have absorbed? This summer I did some major sponging when I went to Michigan Adventure with my kids (always a wide variety of people there, plus going anywhere with my kids is a chance to soak up new experiences).
So.... go sponge. Write, live---live, write. Go. And then come back and tell us about it.
2 comments:
Sarah;
I've been thinking about this, off and on, all day. If I understand what you're asking, I think of all the small, rural, Iowa diners I've eaten in. What a place to find characters: the farmer in bib overalls with a Pionner seed hat, worrying about grain prices, the young waitress, perhaps trapped in a dead-end job or maybe having an affair with the town mayor. There's a big diference between old, almost rancid grease, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread or pies. Truck drivers, tourists, families out for Sunday dinner all offer a quick sketch.
There's a "folksy" restaurant/bar called "The Wolf's Head" in Luther. There's a small dance floor, but they also make milk shakes from scratch, and serve lunch and breakfast. The restrooms are marked "Bucks" and "Does." Smoke and stale beer fill the air; the bathrooms reek of chlorine cakes. Can you imagine the deer-hunting crowd here early in the morning or late at night? Maybe there's a "hooker or two" up from Chicago running business out of a motor home. Maybe a drunken brawl breaks out after a day afield.
Lots of images or settings to recall or invent. Either that, or I'm just hungry.
Larry, I love it! I could smell, hear, taste, and see those places. Made me want to go to The Wolf's Head and check it out.
I've always been a people watcher, but now that I've been writing a number of years, I watch differently. Maybe I pay more attention to specifics instead of just general atmosphere. And I am aware of all the senses instead of just the visual.
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