This is the only life I have, this one in my head,
the one that travels along the surface of my body
singing the low voltage song of the ego
- from "One Life to Live" by Billy Collins in Questions About Angels
*******
I was stuck at work for awhile today, waiting for the network to function and upload my pictures (thinking in my blind optimistic way that it would be faster than actually going out to my car and driving across town to Walgreens--alas, it was not), and I picked up a book of poetry by Mary Oliver. After reading several of her poems, I vowed to rededicate myself to reading at least one poem a day. Not that it has to be one of her poems--although she is a fabulous poet. I just want to hear the language of poetry. I want the images perking in my brain all day. Every day.
Life has been particularly busy, and rather stressful as well with all the political stuff going on in Lansing and in the nation. (Can you believe our Attorney General is going to sue the U.S. Government?! Talk about frivolous lawsuits--with money we don't have.) None of it helps my writing. I need to crave out a space of quiet, of time to think. And maybe even more important than that is an attitude of quiet. An attitude of contemplation.
Poetry can help. I think reading poetry every day helps my mind quiet itself, quit chewing on its own tail. And maybe then I'll be able to hear my story a little quicker, a little louder.
Life has been particularly busy, and rather stressful as well with all the political stuff going on in Lansing and in the nation. (Can you believe our Attorney General is going to sue the U.S. Government?! Talk about frivolous lawsuits--with money we don't have.) None of it helps my writing. I need to crave out a space of quiet, of time to think. And maybe even more important than that is an attitude of quiet. An attitude of contemplation.
Poetry can help. I think reading poetry every day helps my mind quiet itself, quit chewing on its own tail. And maybe then I'll be able to hear my story a little quicker, a little louder.
I love to feel the daily turning of the pages,How's the writing life been treating you lately? Has the muse been visiting regular like, or is she hopelessly late and often out of town?
the sentences unwinding like string,
and when something really important happens,
I walk out to the edges of the page
and, always the student,
make an asterisk, a little star, in the margin.
-from "Cliche", by Billy Collins in Questions About Angels
5 comments:
Sarah;
I think my muse has taken an extended vacation. It's been weeks since I've written anything, besides e-mails. It's like I have nothing left to say. I still get lots of ideas; it's putting them in motion and on paper that falls short.
I saw a sandhill crane soaring yesterday. They fly very high and are often heard before seen. By the sound of its whinnying chortle it was flying just for the pure enjoyment of a spring day. Very cool birds.
Glad to see your blog again.
Hey Larry!
We missed you at Khardomah. Glad to hear from you.
Well, I know you don't write poetry, but try reading some every day. You call forth so many lovely images in your writing, you might find poetry priming your pump, making you excited about writing again.
And why don't you consider a new market? Write about what birds KIDS can see in Michigan in the spring. Your description of the sound of a Sandhill Crane would help my kids (and me) identify it. There are lots of kid magazines out there.
Sometimes maybe our muse does need a vacation. Do the things you love to do. Live loud, enjoy life. It all fills the well.
It will come back, don't worry. Rally of Writers is coming up--April 10 or 11 I think. Consider it a way to spruce up the place so when the muse gets back, she's highly impressed and will want to please you. : )
Thanks for the boost, Sarah.
I would think you might hear sandhills around your home. They like shallow water, like herons. They eat small snakes but are more grain orientated. However, I think the do take mice and voles on occasion. They have a feather-duster tail and are tall and gangly. And they fly very, very high. Probably at least twice as high as Canada geese. They fly with their neck stretched out straight; herons fly with a crooked neck.
Maybe I'll try a few poems or just get back to writing for myself.
I've been taking Fridays off for writing over the last year and I've gone from massive resistance and procrastination to making much better use of the time. I devoted last Friday to a keynote I'm giving in two weeks, but the week before I wrote the novel for a solid 6 hours and the time disappeared. It was wonderful. You set up tea for the muse and she will appear. I haven't read much poetry lately, though that will change. I've been reading many novels, some just mysteries and thrillers and some real literature. Swimming in story telling. Thanks for the note, Sarah.
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