It's definitely one of the hardest lessons, one I never seem to quite grasp fully, and it's been on my mind lately, as there have been a lot of changes at work in the last few weeks.
But today it home even harder. I was sitting at my computer, working on a scholarship essay, fiddling with iTunes and the new "genius" part of it (which for whatever reason, could make me playlists yesterday but can't today), and I clicked on an old favorite song by Chris Cornell. Then on this sidebar thing, it listed all these similar songs (of course in hopes I'd buy them), and I realized that he has some new music out.
I listened to it, barely. Wow, was it ever terrible. I mean just beyond my worst expectations (which were pretty low after Carry On). If I'd ever heard that crap on the radio, I would've changed the station in a second. I got all the way through one song (Long Gone), or should I say, it was the first one I played so I forced myself to sit through it. It was a very, very long five and a half minutes.
It's just incomprehensible to me. It was bad enough with Carry On (and the last two Audioslave albums, and to some extent, the first). I just couldn't reconcile that sort of fluffy, insubstantial music with no depth or soul with the Chris Cornell in the days of Soundgarden, Temple of the Dog and Euphoria Morning. Hearing this newest incarnation of the man is just too much. I felt sick to my stomach.
Chris Cornell, probably more than any other musical artist (except maybe Maynard and Tori), has touched my life with his music. It's hard to put it in words that don't come off as tired cliches, but Chris' music reached me at a difficult time and accompanied me through so many years. I owe a lot of my most treasured friendships to that man - because of an online forum I started going to in early 2000, based on talking about his music. There was so much raw emotion in his words, so much fucking poetry in the way that man wrote lyrics. His songs were so rich and meaningful and unique and gorgeous and deep.
Some of my very favorite snippets as examples:
"You say that midnight opens its arms to me"
from "When I'm Down," Euphoria Morning
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Orcas Island Writers Festival
The first annual Orcas Island Writers Festival ended a few days ago. It was awesome. I'm already looking forward to the next one.
I'm so glad I went, too. I almost didn't. I haven't really written much in awhile, and have felt like work takes over my life. But I had put in for the time off back in April or something, so I said what the hell and signed up. I thought if nothing else, at least I'd have a few days away. The festival was held at Moran State Park which is a good drive from my place, so I stayed overnight in one of the cabins during the festival.
The festival blew my expectations out of the water! The instructors were EXCELLENT! A lot of them teach at Vermont College of Fine Arts which has a low-residency MFA writing program. In the mornings, we had small workshop groups. I chose the non-fiction track, and so each morning, our small group gathered to very thoroughly discuss our work. Each of us had to submit a ten-page sample of our writing before the festival, so we spent considerable time each morning, working with a few people's work each day. It was great. I forgot how great it is, not only to get feedback on your own work, but to work as a group on others' stories. You learn so much. I felt so engaged, like my inner artist was engaged in a way it hasn't been in so long. I was exercising my writing muscles. It was great even to go over some of the basics of story arc and point of view. I didn't realize I was so hungry for this sort of thing. But oh was I ever! It fed my soul, and my soul has been a bit starving as of late.
So our group looked at my piece on the last workshop day. I submitted the first chapter of my book, which I've worked on extensively. I have to say (and I think I've said before), that for the last, well, year or so, I've felt kinda flat, numb, disinterested feelings about my manuscript. It doesn't really excite me anymore. So I thought, what the hell? I also picked the non-fiction track (as opposed to another workshop which was for memoir/fiction), partly because the instructor and some of the people in the group were male (in the mem/fiction group, it was all females). It may seem silly or even arbitrary, but almost all of the places where I've shared my work - other writing circles, friends, classes I've been in - have been all women. I feel like I have a pretty diverse sampling of female responses to this particular piece of work, and I wanted to see a more mixed-gender reaction. I'm glad I did. I left feeling more confident that my story could have a more universal appeal, which was good. I also got great feedback on what worked in my piece, what was effective.
And I got some great ideas for how to change it. I've actually been thinking recently of reshaping and re-visioning the whole project in a major, major way, and this workshop pretty much confirmed that for me. I felt like I got a real sense of where the real juice of the story is, what needs to come in and be included and what I can draw out and yeah, I would just sit there at different points during the weekend with all these thoughts, ideas and inspirations coursing through me.
I also got to rethink another book idea I had in mind. I realized the starting point was a totally different place, and really saw how perfectly that would work. It was like reframing the whole thing. And because of that, I had passages just swirling in me throughout the whole time.
I thought a lot about story structure. In our workshop group we talked about the typical pyramid of a story - the introduction, rising action, climax, denouement, ending. I kept thinking of The Kite Runner, because it's such a perfect book in that way, it has all those elements so clearly. And because I just love thinking about that book anyway. With my other favorite, The God of Small Things, it's so much more murky (and that story weaves in out of time, so if I think about, in chronological order the events of the book probably do follow that arc, but the telling doesn't, not really).
Then in one of the afternoon sessions (these were lectures and mini-classes), Karen Fisher, author of A Sudden Country, said she thinks of story structure in another way. She thinks of it as the story starting out in stability, you enter the world of the story, then there's a destabilizing event, either by ambition, wanting something, or by some sort of loss. Then follows a period of resistance - either a character is resisting something, or the world is resisting them. Then they face the inevitable, or the bottom, etc (analogous to the climax in the other structure system), and then a period of acceptance. Well this description of story structure also perfectly fit The Kite Runner. I just got such a clear picture of it, using that book as a tangible example. And from there could clearly extrapolate to a book I want to write. It just makes a lot of sense.
Another thing we talked about a lot in workshops and afternoon sessions was about reading like a writer, which is something I think I sort of do, but have never been taught to do, looking at good writing and really looking at it, getting into what makes it so good, what the author did to make it so effective. I think I do some of that just by nature of being a writer and reading a lot. I mean, my LENGTHY post on here about The Kite Runner isn't really a review, not really, it's more a writer's appreciation and noticings. I want to go back to the passages from that book that I quoted in my post (there were several), or to the passages I've makred in White Oleander. I want to re-read The God of Small Things again, even though I just reread it a few months ago when I was in Hawaii, because it's just so good. The writing is so fucking good it's unbelievable. And there are so many just mindblowing things about the story structure. Oh God, I'm getting all jazzed up just thinking about it I'm getting up, walking around, thinking about it. That book is SO FREAKIN' GOOD I can hardly stand it. Some of the most gorgeous prose ever. All these great little things that Arundhati Roy does with the writing. And the end, oh the end. Yes, I want to reread it, specifically to read it like a writer, really dig into it and analyze what makes it so good, learn from it.
I'm still DYING to post about that book. I especially want to discuss the end, the choices she made in writing it that way, in the name of the last chapter (which still, years after my first reading of the book, gives me full body shivers), and on what note she chooses to end it and all the implications. I lent it to a friend actually, who was leaving to work on a six month cruise and needed some reading material. I wish I hadn't. I love my friend Holly, and I'm glad someone else will read the book, but I realize I wish I hadn't parted with it. And it hasn't even been two months yet! So, someday, I will post about it. I just feel I couldn't really do it justice without the book here. Anyway I am anxious to dig into that book again and read it in a slightly different way.
I've gotten a bit off-track, as usual. I'm taking a screenwriting class starting in a week or two. I'm going to base it on a short story I wrote a bit ago, which was based on a dream I had about writing this story (now that I think about it, the dream might have also involved it being for a screenwriting class, I just put that together, weird). I'm a little nervous about the fact that my two main characters are on acid during part of the story, since I don't know how that'll fly in some of the writing circles of the island, but after one of the readings at the festival (each night a handful of authors/instructors read their work), I'm inspired to NEVER hold back. So that should be an interesting class. On an un-writing note, I'm also taking an anthropology class this fall, on comparative Islamic cultures. I'm really looking forward to that too. My mind is just craving something like that.
Currently Reading:
Dave Eggers' What is the What? - I'm only a few chapters in. It's very good, harrowing in many places, immediately draws me in.
Currently Listening:
"Fast Car" - Tracy Chapman - this is not a random iTunes pick like usual in this section. I am sort of obsessed with this song. In some other post, I totally want to write about this song the way I want to write about books. There are so many great lyrical things she does in this song. It's also heartbreaking.
I'm so glad I went, too. I almost didn't. I haven't really written much in awhile, and have felt like work takes over my life. But I had put in for the time off back in April or something, so I said what the hell and signed up. I thought if nothing else, at least I'd have a few days away. The festival was held at Moran State Park which is a good drive from my place, so I stayed overnight in one of the cabins during the festival.
The festival blew my expectations out of the water! The instructors were EXCELLENT! A lot of them teach at Vermont College of Fine Arts which has a low-residency MFA writing program. In the mornings, we had small workshop groups. I chose the non-fiction track, and so each morning, our small group gathered to very thoroughly discuss our work. Each of us had to submit a ten-page sample of our writing before the festival, so we spent considerable time each morning, working with a few people's work each day. It was great. I forgot how great it is, not only to get feedback on your own work, but to work as a group on others' stories. You learn so much. I felt so engaged, like my inner artist was engaged in a way it hasn't been in so long. I was exercising my writing muscles. It was great even to go over some of the basics of story arc and point of view. I didn't realize I was so hungry for this sort of thing. But oh was I ever! It fed my soul, and my soul has been a bit starving as of late.
So our group looked at my piece on the last workshop day. I submitted the first chapter of my book, which I've worked on extensively. I have to say (and I think I've said before), that for the last, well, year or so, I've felt kinda flat, numb, disinterested feelings about my manuscript. It doesn't really excite me anymore. So I thought, what the hell? I also picked the non-fiction track (as opposed to another workshop which was for memoir/fiction), partly because the instructor and some of the people in the group were male (in the mem/fiction group, it was all females). It may seem silly or even arbitrary, but almost all of the places where I've shared my work - other writing circles, friends, classes I've been in - have been all women. I feel like I have a pretty diverse sampling of female responses to this particular piece of work, and I wanted to see a more mixed-gender reaction. I'm glad I did. I left feeling more confident that my story could have a more universal appeal, which was good. I also got great feedback on what worked in my piece, what was effective.
And I got some great ideas for how to change it. I've actually been thinking recently of reshaping and re-visioning the whole project in a major, major way, and this workshop pretty much confirmed that for me. I felt like I got a real sense of where the real juice of the story is, what needs to come in and be included and what I can draw out and yeah, I would just sit there at different points during the weekend with all these thoughts, ideas and inspirations coursing through me.
I also got to rethink another book idea I had in mind. I realized the starting point was a totally different place, and really saw how perfectly that would work. It was like reframing the whole thing. And because of that, I had passages just swirling in me throughout the whole time.
I thought a lot about story structure. In our workshop group we talked about the typical pyramid of a story - the introduction, rising action, climax, denouement, ending. I kept thinking of The Kite Runner, because it's such a perfect book in that way, it has all those elements so clearly. And because I just love thinking about that book anyway. With my other favorite, The God of Small Things, it's so much more murky (and that story weaves in out of time, so if I think about, in chronological order the events of the book probably do follow that arc, but the telling doesn't, not really).
Then in one of the afternoon sessions (these were lectures and mini-classes), Karen Fisher, author of A Sudden Country, said she thinks of story structure in another way. She thinks of it as the story starting out in stability, you enter the world of the story, then there's a destabilizing event, either by ambition, wanting something, or by some sort of loss. Then follows a period of resistance - either a character is resisting something, or the world is resisting them. Then they face the inevitable, or the bottom, etc (analogous to the climax in the other structure system), and then a period of acceptance. Well this description of story structure also perfectly fit The Kite Runner. I just got such a clear picture of it, using that book as a tangible example. And from there could clearly extrapolate to a book I want to write. It just makes a lot of sense.
Another thing we talked about a lot in workshops and afternoon sessions was about reading like a writer, which is something I think I sort of do, but have never been taught to do, looking at good writing and really looking at it, getting into what makes it so good, what the author did to make it so effective. I think I do some of that just by nature of being a writer and reading a lot. I mean, my LENGTHY post on here about The Kite Runner isn't really a review, not really, it's more a writer's appreciation and noticings. I want to go back to the passages from that book that I quoted in my post (there were several), or to the passages I've makred in White Oleander. I want to re-read The God of Small Things again, even though I just reread it a few months ago when I was in Hawaii, because it's just so good. The writing is so fucking good it's unbelievable. And there are so many just mindblowing things about the story structure. Oh God, I'm getting all jazzed up just thinking about it I'm getting up, walking around, thinking about it. That book is SO FREAKIN' GOOD I can hardly stand it. Some of the most gorgeous prose ever. All these great little things that Arundhati Roy does with the writing. And the end, oh the end. Yes, I want to reread it, specifically to read it like a writer, really dig into it and analyze what makes it so good, learn from it.
I'm still DYING to post about that book. I especially want to discuss the end, the choices she made in writing it that way, in the name of the last chapter (which still, years after my first reading of the book, gives me full body shivers), and on what note she chooses to end it and all the implications. I lent it to a friend actually, who was leaving to work on a six month cruise and needed some reading material. I wish I hadn't. I love my friend Holly, and I'm glad someone else will read the book, but I realize I wish I hadn't parted with it. And it hasn't even been two months yet! So, someday, I will post about it. I just feel I couldn't really do it justice without the book here. Anyway I am anxious to dig into that book again and read it in a slightly different way.
I've gotten a bit off-track, as usual. I'm taking a screenwriting class starting in a week or two. I'm going to base it on a short story I wrote a bit ago, which was based on a dream I had about writing this story (now that I think about it, the dream might have also involved it being for a screenwriting class, I just put that together, weird). I'm a little nervous about the fact that my two main characters are on acid during part of the story, since I don't know how that'll fly in some of the writing circles of the island, but after one of the readings at the festival (each night a handful of authors/instructors read their work), I'm inspired to NEVER hold back. So that should be an interesting class. On an un-writing note, I'm also taking an anthropology class this fall, on comparative Islamic cultures. I'm really looking forward to that too. My mind is just craving something like that.
Currently Reading:
Dave Eggers' What is the What? - I'm only a few chapters in. It's very good, harrowing in many places, immediately draws me in.
Currently Listening:
"Fast Car" - Tracy Chapman - this is not a random iTunes pick like usual in this section. I am sort of obsessed with this song. In some other post, I totally want to write about this song the way I want to write about books. There are so many great lyrical things she does in this song. It's also heartbreaking.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Our World is a Sad, Sad Circus
Sometimes it's just hard to really fathom that things that are going on in the world are actually real and not some twisted circus. I'm going to get political here, which I've tried in some ways to abstain from because I hate conflict, but fuck, I just can't help myself.
First off, I have wanted to say something about impeachment for awhile now. I know Congressman Dennis Kucinich is introducing articles of impeachment every month, and I support that. I don't understand why so many leading democrats are against it, but they are. I've heard Obama, Nancy Pelosi and others speak out against impeachment, and the reason I seem to hear the most is that they don't want to engage in a payback sort of game (presumably for Clinton's deal), and that they want to focus on getting Obama elected and faring well in all the coming elections.
Fair enough, I suppose, on the last account, but it all basically boils down to, they're afraid of how it will make them look. It's such ridiculous, near-sighted and faulty reasoning to me. I mean, Bush and his administration are committing war crimes. Innocent people are dying. Just today I heard about NATO troops accidentally killing children in Kabul. This comes only weeks after the biggest civilian killing in Afghanistan since the war began. And then there's the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who've died, who are living as refugees, or who've had their homes and families destroyed. And the American soldiers dying unnecessarily, for a war that was never warranted in the first place. Oh and then there's the interrogation torture, the suspension of the bill of rights for prisoners who are mostly probably innocent. The outing of Valerie Plame's identity. The forged Habbush letter. The litany of lies and deception that led us into this occupation of a sovereign nation. The Iraq veterans and conscientious objectors saying they were forced repeatedly to violate the Geneva convention. The lies, corruption and crime are rampant. People are DYING because of this administration. LOTS of people. There are clear crimes. If this doesn't warrant impeachment, what the fuck does? These crooks are running amok and obviously feel accountable to no one, definitely not to Congress or to the public, and I think it's the job and the duty of Congress to press a lot harder for more serious investigations, and to take action. It makes me as a citizen feel (again) like the Congress is failing their duty.
And on account of wanting to look good, secure elections? That's bullshit. How can this shit, which is pretty superficial, outweigh the lives lost and the crimes committed? How could anyone (but a politician of course) think it's more important? It's beyond my realm of understanding, and I'm glad, because I'm pretty sure it means I'm still human. As far as looking or feeling bad, I think the idiots who thought it was worthwhile to try to impeach someone over lying about a blow job should feel like petty, vindictive idiots, because it's so, so immaterial compared to the real tragedies that are going on now.
And the circus continues.
Now, another thing that's gotten me riled up is Mr. McCain's VP choice. It's funny, I was walking home from work the day he was supposed to announce his choice, and I kept thinking that he would probably pick a black man (to compete with everything historic that's happening with Obama, perhaps), and instead he picked a woman, maybe trying to get some of the Hillary supporters. I already think she's a nutjob, just as full of circus-like contradictions as much as anyone. She calls herself a pro-life feminist for one thing, and if that's not oxymoronic, what is? Also, I have to ask this: How can someone be so pro-life, and believe in the sacredness of all life, be so anti-life at the same time? She has fought to keep polar bears off the endangered species list, and supports drilling in ANWR - aren't the polar bears' lives sacred? And the caribou? And all the ecosystems in ANWR? I just don't understand how someone could be so blatantly contradictory.
I suppose it comes from a feeling of human life being supremely superior to all other life, which is just self-centered and short-sighted anyway. I mean, even if I was going to be completely human-centered here, thinking our existence is so much more warranted and important than all of the lives of all the organisms that came before us, human life, even from that perspective, take it down the line a century or two - we can't sustain human life if we destroy our landbases, the food, ecosystems, water, etc we depend on to survive. Even from a "humans only matter" viewpoint, it's better, for our species, in the long run, to conserve and protect our environment and to live sustainably. It's also better to not over-populate the planet as massive rates like we are, a problem that is not helped by people who oppose abortion and also oppose sex education.
Are there no politicians out there who think beyond their next election? Who actually look at the bigger picture and into the future?
The third completely contradictory and crazy thing that's got me just dumbfounded is the crazy police shit going on in MN for the RNC. Of course, I wouldn't really expect anything different, but still, it's disgusting. There are all these raids on peace groups, planning peaceful activities (including one group doing a peace picnic, wow, that really sounds like terrorist activities to me). It's crazy that some of the people targeted are police watch groups (which given the state of things these days, and the fact that a handcuffed and restrained man was tasered to death not too long ago, are pretty necessary). So the people documenting and watching out for police brutality are getting brutalized by police. Oh, and journalists. Several journalists have been arrested and detained. I was listening to Democracy Now! this morning, and two of their producers and their host, Amy Goodman, had been arrested. One of the producers, Nicole Salizar, had a camera on while she was being arrested. I was listening to the audio broadcast and couldn't see it, but hearing it was enough to rattle me. It sounded brutal, there was some serious screaming. Why are the police targeting journalists?
Our country is out of control. It's like some circus gone so horribly wrong that no one seems able to stop. And the ones who actually could possibly do something about it, continually fail to do anything meaningful. Sometimes it's just hard to believe this is really reality, but it is. Sometimes I just can't wait to visit other countries and experience something different, just see what it's like somewhere else, get out of the bubble and really connect with other cultures.
I'm reading Dave Eggers' What is the What? which only fuels this feeling.
Currently listening:
The only song really appropriate for this post is probably Tool's "Aenema"
First off, I have wanted to say something about impeachment for awhile now. I know Congressman Dennis Kucinich is introducing articles of impeachment every month, and I support that. I don't understand why so many leading democrats are against it, but they are. I've heard Obama, Nancy Pelosi and others speak out against impeachment, and the reason I seem to hear the most is that they don't want to engage in a payback sort of game (presumably for Clinton's deal), and that they want to focus on getting Obama elected and faring well in all the coming elections.
Fair enough, I suppose, on the last account, but it all basically boils down to, they're afraid of how it will make them look. It's such ridiculous, near-sighted and faulty reasoning to me. I mean, Bush and his administration are committing war crimes. Innocent people are dying. Just today I heard about NATO troops accidentally killing children in Kabul. This comes only weeks after the biggest civilian killing in Afghanistan since the war began. And then there's the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who've died, who are living as refugees, or who've had their homes and families destroyed. And the American soldiers dying unnecessarily, for a war that was never warranted in the first place. Oh and then there's the interrogation torture, the suspension of the bill of rights for prisoners who are mostly probably innocent. The outing of Valerie Plame's identity. The forged Habbush letter. The litany of lies and deception that led us into this occupation of a sovereign nation. The Iraq veterans and conscientious objectors saying they were forced repeatedly to violate the Geneva convention. The lies, corruption and crime are rampant. People are DYING because of this administration. LOTS of people. There are clear crimes. If this doesn't warrant impeachment, what the fuck does? These crooks are running amok and obviously feel accountable to no one, definitely not to Congress or to the public, and I think it's the job and the duty of Congress to press a lot harder for more serious investigations, and to take action. It makes me as a citizen feel (again) like the Congress is failing their duty.
And on account of wanting to look good, secure elections? That's bullshit. How can this shit, which is pretty superficial, outweigh the lives lost and the crimes committed? How could anyone (but a politician of course) think it's more important? It's beyond my realm of understanding, and I'm glad, because I'm pretty sure it means I'm still human. As far as looking or feeling bad, I think the idiots who thought it was worthwhile to try to impeach someone over lying about a blow job should feel like petty, vindictive idiots, because it's so, so immaterial compared to the real tragedies that are going on now.
And the circus continues.
Now, another thing that's gotten me riled up is Mr. McCain's VP choice. It's funny, I was walking home from work the day he was supposed to announce his choice, and I kept thinking that he would probably pick a black man (to compete with everything historic that's happening with Obama, perhaps), and instead he picked a woman, maybe trying to get some of the Hillary supporters. I already think she's a nutjob, just as full of circus-like contradictions as much as anyone. She calls herself a pro-life feminist for one thing, and if that's not oxymoronic, what is? Also, I have to ask this: How can someone be so pro-life, and believe in the sacredness of all life, be so anti-life at the same time? She has fought to keep polar bears off the endangered species list, and supports drilling in ANWR - aren't the polar bears' lives sacred? And the caribou? And all the ecosystems in ANWR? I just don't understand how someone could be so blatantly contradictory.
I suppose it comes from a feeling of human life being supremely superior to all other life, which is just self-centered and short-sighted anyway. I mean, even if I was going to be completely human-centered here, thinking our existence is so much more warranted and important than all of the lives of all the organisms that came before us, human life, even from that perspective, take it down the line a century or two - we can't sustain human life if we destroy our landbases, the food, ecosystems, water, etc we depend on to survive. Even from a "humans only matter" viewpoint, it's better, for our species, in the long run, to conserve and protect our environment and to live sustainably. It's also better to not over-populate the planet as massive rates like we are, a problem that is not helped by people who oppose abortion and also oppose sex education.
Are there no politicians out there who think beyond their next election? Who actually look at the bigger picture and into the future?
The third completely contradictory and crazy thing that's got me just dumbfounded is the crazy police shit going on in MN for the RNC. Of course, I wouldn't really expect anything different, but still, it's disgusting. There are all these raids on peace groups, planning peaceful activities (including one group doing a peace picnic, wow, that really sounds like terrorist activities to me). It's crazy that some of the people targeted are police watch groups (which given the state of things these days, and the fact that a handcuffed and restrained man was tasered to death not too long ago, are pretty necessary). So the people documenting and watching out for police brutality are getting brutalized by police. Oh, and journalists. Several journalists have been arrested and detained. I was listening to Democracy Now! this morning, and two of their producers and their host, Amy Goodman, had been arrested. One of the producers, Nicole Salizar, had a camera on while she was being arrested. I was listening to the audio broadcast and couldn't see it, but hearing it was enough to rattle me. It sounded brutal, there was some serious screaming. Why are the police targeting journalists?
Our country is out of control. It's like some circus gone so horribly wrong that no one seems able to stop. And the ones who actually could possibly do something about it, continually fail to do anything meaningful. Sometimes it's just hard to believe this is really reality, but it is. Sometimes I just can't wait to visit other countries and experience something different, just see what it's like somewhere else, get out of the bubble and really connect with other cultures.
I'm reading Dave Eggers' What is the What? which only fuels this feeling.
Currently listening:
The only song really appropriate for this post is probably Tool's "Aenema"
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Adventures, Quests & Foreign Sands
So, I'm a pretty chronic intention-setter. To me, that means just taking some moments of silence to focus on what I'd like to manifest in life, a la The Secret, What the Bleep and my friend Caren's "soul wishing." A pretty weird practice for an atheist I suppose, but so is reading tarot cards and counseling friends astrologically about what to expect with the new guy they're seeing. So I just try to be okay with being contradictory.
Anyway, so for the past few months, I've been setting the same three intentions. The first is about adventure. I want to go back to school next fall, I've felt decided on that for awhile. The meantime is the issue. I decided a few months ago that I'm not going to stay here for that time. I feel too stagnant and stuck, like I haven't put myself out there in awhile, taken any big risks like I did back when I traveled to organic farms or moved to Seattle with no money. Those were difficult experiences, but also some of the deepest, most rewarding times I've lived through, really showed me what I was made of, challenged me and made me grow as a person. I miss it, the spirit of adventure, of seeing the world.
In aforementioned intention setting, I've just been putting it out there, daily, that I'd like the opportunity to do something wild, enriching and interesting. I crave meaningful, soul-enriching experience, to stretch myself far beyond my comfort zone, and so I've been trying to phrase it that way when I take those moments to put my desires out there. I have just over a year, and I want to have the experience that will be the best for my soul, for my personal growth, and hopefully will also have a humanitarian bent as well. Hence why one of my first thoughts was the Peace Corps, and then when that didn't work, AmeriCorps. I'm still involved in several interviews for that option, and will see where that goes.
But in the last two weeks or so, I think I've found an option that totally fits the bill even better, but could be harder to pull off. I've only told a few people, because I wanted to get it a little more secure in my own mind, and let a bit of time lapse so I could make sure I wasn't just temporarily crazy. Actually though, most of the best times of my life come from wild schemes that make me question my sanity, so it's probably a good sign. So time has passed, and I'm still stuck on it, and ready to share it publicly.
So here is the deal: In the next year, I want to do two programs that involve international travel. The first is in Alexandria, Egypt. I have ALWAYS wanted to go to Egypt. I mean, really, who hasn't? It's got a lot that I'm interested in. The program there is a ten-week course and internship in Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL), which would be such a great skill to have in terms of further foreign travel as life progresses. It also includes some cultural immersion, language classes (and learning languages is another thing I've definitely missed), and trips to the Pyramids and the Sphinx! This is like a long-time dream come true, and I've already applied and been accepted to the program that starts in late fall. Read more about it here. And that would just be the beginning.
After that, there's another program I want to do. It's called Latitudes (and I found it through looking at Leap Year, which I'm too old for, but anyone in late teens and early twenties should check out) and it involves a 12-week semester in India (or other countries if participants so choose) and then a solo internship anywhere in the world. India is another place I've always wanted to go, and the program just looks perfect. There are language lessons, humanitarian work, trekking in the Himilayas, and exposure to all the different spiritual practices in India. It also seems to me like a really well-structured program, group travel, sort of a really safe way to go somewhere really new, experience something really different and travel the world. Then there's the solo internship, which is also somewhat guided, and I just think it'd all be rad. Not to mention I can get college credit for it all! Latitudes is a program through Carpe Diem International, loosely associated with Portland State University, and you can read about it here. I've already talked to people about the program and about financial aid opportunities.
I just think all of this is an opportunity of a lifetime that I might not have in a few years, and I don't think I can pass it up. Everything I wrote about in those posts about artistic integrity, I believe also extends itself to life in general, and I'm going to take the leap. I think the experience would be invaluable, priceless, and also a huge help with my college application process.
So, I'm going to do my damnedest to make it happen.
It will mean saving money, applying for aid and fundraising aggressively. It will be difficult to pull off. But the longer people have known me, the more they know how much I like a good quest (to concerts I can't possibly get to, writing retreats I can't possibly afford, and the like). Sometimes I think I'm at my best when I'm trying to make something happen that seems completely impossible at its outset; it makes me brainstorm, push myself and take risks. This will definitely be the biggest of all the quests I've undertaken in the past, but hey I was looking for challenge. I needed a quixotic goal. I'm going to make it happen, through doggedly fierce determination, force of will, and some good old intention setting just in case that helps any.
As for the other two intentions, well, they're not really fit for public consumption.
Just kidding.
Currently Listening:
"Ticks & Leeches" - TOOL - let me just say, though this song doesn't perfectly fit this post at all. I LOVE to blast this song at full volume, and am psyched that this is the song that came up randomly. Here's the words:
Ticks & Leeches
Suck and suck.
Suckin up all you can, suckin up all you can suck.
Workin up under my patience like a little tick.
Fat little parasite.
Suck me dry.
My blood is bruised and borrowed. You thieving bastards.
You have turned my blood cold and bitter,
beat my compassion black and blue.
Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.
I hope you're choking. I hope you choke on this.
Taken all I can, taken all I can, we(?) can take.
Taken all you can, taken all you can fuckin' take
Got nothing left to give to you.
Blood suckin parasitic little tick/blood suckin parasitic little tick
Take what you want and then go.
Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.
Suck me dry.
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what you had in mind?
Cuz this this is what you're getting.
I hope you choke.
Anyway, so for the past few months, I've been setting the same three intentions. The first is about adventure. I want to go back to school next fall, I've felt decided on that for awhile. The meantime is the issue. I decided a few months ago that I'm not going to stay here for that time. I feel too stagnant and stuck, like I haven't put myself out there in awhile, taken any big risks like I did back when I traveled to organic farms or moved to Seattle with no money. Those were difficult experiences, but also some of the deepest, most rewarding times I've lived through, really showed me what I was made of, challenged me and made me grow as a person. I miss it, the spirit of adventure, of seeing the world.
In aforementioned intention setting, I've just been putting it out there, daily, that I'd like the opportunity to do something wild, enriching and interesting. I crave meaningful, soul-enriching experience, to stretch myself far beyond my comfort zone, and so I've been trying to phrase it that way when I take those moments to put my desires out there. I have just over a year, and I want to have the experience that will be the best for my soul, for my personal growth, and hopefully will also have a humanitarian bent as well. Hence why one of my first thoughts was the Peace Corps, and then when that didn't work, AmeriCorps. I'm still involved in several interviews for that option, and will see where that goes.
But in the last two weeks or so, I think I've found an option that totally fits the bill even better, but could be harder to pull off. I've only told a few people, because I wanted to get it a little more secure in my own mind, and let a bit of time lapse so I could make sure I wasn't just temporarily crazy. Actually though, most of the best times of my life come from wild schemes that make me question my sanity, so it's probably a good sign. So time has passed, and I'm still stuck on it, and ready to share it publicly.
So here is the deal: In the next year, I want to do two programs that involve international travel. The first is in Alexandria, Egypt. I have ALWAYS wanted to go to Egypt. I mean, really, who hasn't? It's got a lot that I'm interested in. The program there is a ten-week course and internship in Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL), which would be such a great skill to have in terms of further foreign travel as life progresses. It also includes some cultural immersion, language classes (and learning languages is another thing I've definitely missed), and trips to the Pyramids and the Sphinx! This is like a long-time dream come true, and I've already applied and been accepted to the program that starts in late fall. Read more about it here. And that would just be the beginning.
After that, there's another program I want to do. It's called Latitudes (and I found it through looking at Leap Year, which I'm too old for, but anyone in late teens and early twenties should check out) and it involves a 12-week semester in India (or other countries if participants so choose) and then a solo internship anywhere in the world. India is another place I've always wanted to go, and the program just looks perfect. There are language lessons, humanitarian work, trekking in the Himilayas, and exposure to all the different spiritual practices in India. It also seems to me like a really well-structured program, group travel, sort of a really safe way to go somewhere really new, experience something really different and travel the world. Then there's the solo internship, which is also somewhat guided, and I just think it'd all be rad. Not to mention I can get college credit for it all! Latitudes is a program through Carpe Diem International, loosely associated with Portland State University, and you can read about it here. I've already talked to people about the program and about financial aid opportunities.
I just think all of this is an opportunity of a lifetime that I might not have in a few years, and I don't think I can pass it up. Everything I wrote about in those posts about artistic integrity, I believe also extends itself to life in general, and I'm going to take the leap. I think the experience would be invaluable, priceless, and also a huge help with my college application process.
So, I'm going to do my damnedest to make it happen.
It will mean saving money, applying for aid and fundraising aggressively. It will be difficult to pull off. But the longer people have known me, the more they know how much I like a good quest (to concerts I can't possibly get to, writing retreats I can't possibly afford, and the like). Sometimes I think I'm at my best when I'm trying to make something happen that seems completely impossible at its outset; it makes me brainstorm, push myself and take risks. This will definitely be the biggest of all the quests I've undertaken in the past, but hey I was looking for challenge. I needed a quixotic goal. I'm going to make it happen, through doggedly fierce determination, force of will, and some good old intention setting just in case that helps any.
As for the other two intentions, well, they're not really fit for public consumption.
Just kidding.
Currently Listening:
"Ticks & Leeches" - TOOL - let me just say, though this song doesn't perfectly fit this post at all. I LOVE to blast this song at full volume, and am psyched that this is the song that came up randomly. Here's the words:
Ticks & Leeches
Suck and suck.
Suckin up all you can, suckin up all you can suck.
Workin up under my patience like a little tick.
Fat little parasite.
Suck me dry.
My blood is bruised and borrowed. You thieving bastards.
You have turned my blood cold and bitter,
beat my compassion black and blue.
Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.
I hope you're choking. I hope you choke on this.
Taken all I can, taken all I can, we(?) can take.
Taken all you can, taken all you can fuckin' take
Got nothing left to give to you.
Blood suckin parasitic little tick/blood suckin parasitic little tick
Take what you want and then go.
Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.
Suck me dry.
Is this what you wanted?
Is this what you had in mind?
Cuz this this is what you're getting.
I hope you choke.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Further Thoughts on Writing and Artistic Integrity
So in my last post, KaliDurga gave this link, "Writing is in my blood...".
And in that article, I found this little gem:
"One also writes as a spiritual practice and a mode of self-discovery. One writes in order to see. One writes in order to remember. Writing is like a sixth sense used to apprehend a reality not detected by the other five. It is the memory-sense, or the feeling-sense, the organ through which we make known to each other a rich world not otherwise knowable. It is also the medium through which we make known history and the soul of our culture. It keeps something alive that otherwise might die."
I whole-heartedly agree here. I'm immediately reminded of my favorite story I've ever read in The Sun, of all the years of reading the magazine. I dug up the issue so I could quote it. The story is called "The View From Here" by Mithran Somasundrum. It starts like this:
"I was born in the house my father built, a wooden house of two stories with broad eaves. There was an avocado tree in the front garden, and from my bedroom window at night its ragged black branches seemed to reach for the moon..."
It then chronicles the story of a woman growing up and living amidst the racial fighting of the Hutus and Tutsis, and an escape at night to another town, far away, and tiny government housing. And it's also the story of changing times - the granddaughter ends up singing songs in a different language, and it's almost like history or tradition evaporating. And then the story ends with this:
"This, then, is my life: the box room and the market and the stairs that hurt my knees and my granddaughter singing strange songs. But I was born in the house my father built. It had broad eaves and an avocado tree in the front garden, and in the mornings you could see to the opposite side of the valley. After I am gone, who will remember these things?"
That ending always makes me tear up. It's true. For everyone. I mean, our lives are so individual that we live things that will never be lived again, especially in our rapidly changing world. I am a lover of memory, so things like this compel me to want to write, to capture, to re-enter and re-experience moments, places, periods, feelings. And sometimes it's hard to get there consciously, but in writing, there really is another dimension.
One time I wanted to write about the two weeks I spent at summer camp when I was 14. I was inspired by a woman in my writing group who wrote about a summer camp experience. It was an intense two weeks, especially because a girl in my cabin and three other kids ran away and went missing (and were later found lost in the woods). In preparing to write about it, I was bothered because I couldn't remember how I had found out about them missing. I was actually going to make something up, just pulling together other memories from that summer, and other things we did that day, and using probable circumstances, but it bugged me. I'm sort of a stickler for accuracy and I usually have an excellent memory. But it just escaped me. So I went on writing and suddenly, as I was about to write the probable scene, it all came back. I remembered we were having a free swim. I remembered where I was in the pool. I remembered the staffperson who came up to me and exactly how she asked me if I knew where my friend might go if she wanted to get away. I don't think if I sat there for days and days trying to conjure the memory, that I would have. I think there is some magic in writing and reliving something, because some part of me really was re-inhabiting that experience on some level. Call it accessing the unconscious or what you will, there's something to it.
So that quote really spoke to me. I also remember a writer friend saying that sometimes she's more herself in her writing than she is anywhere else, and I think there's something to that too. It's that sixth sense part of it all, the way all the different layers coexist without contradiction.
The weird thing is, for all my feeling excited about life and back to myself and all that jazz, I haven't really been writing lately. It bothers me. I know it has something to do with fear - sometimes writing takes me into some pretty dark territory.
And the weird thing is, I love that. Sometimes the dark and the intense and the writing that is packed with feeling, even if it's not the most pleasant, is the richest. The writing where I dig deepest into the recesses of memory and forgotten, forlorn territory, enter the abysses of existence or dredge up the most secret things I would almost never dare to say, is the most satisfying. Afterward, of course, there is catharsis, and insight. And I almost always find humor in the strangest places. It's really weird actually. Awhile ago, I was going to write about Mr. O - which from reading this blog anyone could see was a really miserable experience for me. I have been very afraid to even go near the topic in writing, because it was such prolonged and profound unhappiness. So one day I went back and read some stuff I had written on the subject. I thought if anything it would make me sad or mad at myself, but instead, rereading, I was in hysterics, finding so many funny things. I NEVER would have expected that. Another time, at the artist residency back in March (which was a week of laughing so hard I cried at least once a day), I was again writing about something really difficult, something I thought might be good to exorcise from my system and get on paper, something I expected to be joyless, and again in writing, I was remembering things I had totally forgotten, and I was laughing. So it's like, writing is always good in that way, always release, and usually has me L O L.
But it's not only afterwards, it's also during the actual writing. I can remember a few winters ago, the winter I lived in the dispensary, sitting in the living room by myself, writing the most difficult thing I've ever written (as of yet). I went into some territory that was so taboo to me that for years I hadn't even let myself think about it. It took hours to write this piece. Some of it made me cry. But it also made me laugh at parts, and feel compassion and perspective, and it felt really good to write it, even during the worst parts.
And still, still, the idea of writing scares me. And I avoid it. And then I get frustrated with myself for avoiding it and feel vaguely dissatisfied and irritable because writing is sort of like my version of meditation - it centers me. Even knowing that intellectually and certainly, and thoroughly believing that though it's difficult sometimes, it's always worthwhile, and that sometimes the difficult things are the most worthwhile, it doesn't always get me over the hurdle of fear. It's easy to get in the habit of not writing. Sitting my ass in the chair with pen and paper really is the biggest challenge. If I can do that, I'm fine. I think that I want to get back in the habit of doing it anyway, even though it scares me. Reading all these writing quotes and ruminating on them has definitely stirred me up. And really, what is life if you dohn't do what scares you? I'm contemplating some bigger, scarier things in life, so I might as well get in practice with the daily stuff.
I think I'm going to go write.
Currently Listening:
"Hurt You" - The Sounds - great song that a friend just put on my computer, kind of addicting. Here's a great line from the song, "Should we start over or should I leave you behind/Give me an answer but please don't tell me the truth." LOL.
And in that article, I found this little gem:
"One also writes as a spiritual practice and a mode of self-discovery. One writes in order to see. One writes in order to remember. Writing is like a sixth sense used to apprehend a reality not detected by the other five. It is the memory-sense, or the feeling-sense, the organ through which we make known to each other a rich world not otherwise knowable. It is also the medium through which we make known history and the soul of our culture. It keeps something alive that otherwise might die."
I whole-heartedly agree here. I'm immediately reminded of my favorite story I've ever read in The Sun, of all the years of reading the magazine. I dug up the issue so I could quote it. The story is called "The View From Here" by Mithran Somasundrum. It starts like this:
"I was born in the house my father built, a wooden house of two stories with broad eaves. There was an avocado tree in the front garden, and from my bedroom window at night its ragged black branches seemed to reach for the moon..."
It then chronicles the story of a woman growing up and living amidst the racial fighting of the Hutus and Tutsis, and an escape at night to another town, far away, and tiny government housing. And it's also the story of changing times - the granddaughter ends up singing songs in a different language, and it's almost like history or tradition evaporating. And then the story ends with this:
"This, then, is my life: the box room and the market and the stairs that hurt my knees and my granddaughter singing strange songs. But I was born in the house my father built. It had broad eaves and an avocado tree in the front garden, and in the mornings you could see to the opposite side of the valley. After I am gone, who will remember these things?"
That ending always makes me tear up. It's true. For everyone. I mean, our lives are so individual that we live things that will never be lived again, especially in our rapidly changing world. I am a lover of memory, so things like this compel me to want to write, to capture, to re-enter and re-experience moments, places, periods, feelings. And sometimes it's hard to get there consciously, but in writing, there really is another dimension.
One time I wanted to write about the two weeks I spent at summer camp when I was 14. I was inspired by a woman in my writing group who wrote about a summer camp experience. It was an intense two weeks, especially because a girl in my cabin and three other kids ran away and went missing (and were later found lost in the woods). In preparing to write about it, I was bothered because I couldn't remember how I had found out about them missing. I was actually going to make something up, just pulling together other memories from that summer, and other things we did that day, and using probable circumstances, but it bugged me. I'm sort of a stickler for accuracy and I usually have an excellent memory. But it just escaped me. So I went on writing and suddenly, as I was about to write the probable scene, it all came back. I remembered we were having a free swim. I remembered where I was in the pool. I remembered the staffperson who came up to me and exactly how she asked me if I knew where my friend might go if she wanted to get away. I don't think if I sat there for days and days trying to conjure the memory, that I would have. I think there is some magic in writing and reliving something, because some part of me really was re-inhabiting that experience on some level. Call it accessing the unconscious or what you will, there's something to it.
So that quote really spoke to me. I also remember a writer friend saying that sometimes she's more herself in her writing than she is anywhere else, and I think there's something to that too. It's that sixth sense part of it all, the way all the different layers coexist without contradiction.
The weird thing is, for all my feeling excited about life and back to myself and all that jazz, I haven't really been writing lately. It bothers me. I know it has something to do with fear - sometimes writing takes me into some pretty dark territory.
And the weird thing is, I love that. Sometimes the dark and the intense and the writing that is packed with feeling, even if it's not the most pleasant, is the richest. The writing where I dig deepest into the recesses of memory and forgotten, forlorn territory, enter the abysses of existence or dredge up the most secret things I would almost never dare to say, is the most satisfying. Afterward, of course, there is catharsis, and insight. And I almost always find humor in the strangest places. It's really weird actually. Awhile ago, I was going to write about Mr. O - which from reading this blog anyone could see was a really miserable experience for me. I have been very afraid to even go near the topic in writing, because it was such prolonged and profound unhappiness. So one day I went back and read some stuff I had written on the subject. I thought if anything it would make me sad or mad at myself, but instead, rereading, I was in hysterics, finding so many funny things. I NEVER would have expected that. Another time, at the artist residency back in March (which was a week of laughing so hard I cried at least once a day), I was again writing about something really difficult, something I thought might be good to exorcise from my system and get on paper, something I expected to be joyless, and again in writing, I was remembering things I had totally forgotten, and I was laughing. So it's like, writing is always good in that way, always release, and usually has me L O L.
But it's not only afterwards, it's also during the actual writing. I can remember a few winters ago, the winter I lived in the dispensary, sitting in the living room by myself, writing the most difficult thing I've ever written (as of yet). I went into some territory that was so taboo to me that for years I hadn't even let myself think about it. It took hours to write this piece. Some of it made me cry. But it also made me laugh at parts, and feel compassion and perspective, and it felt really good to write it, even during the worst parts.
And still, still, the idea of writing scares me. And I avoid it. And then I get frustrated with myself for avoiding it and feel vaguely dissatisfied and irritable because writing is sort of like my version of meditation - it centers me. Even knowing that intellectually and certainly, and thoroughly believing that though it's difficult sometimes, it's always worthwhile, and that sometimes the difficult things are the most worthwhile, it doesn't always get me over the hurdle of fear. It's easy to get in the habit of not writing. Sitting my ass in the chair with pen and paper really is the biggest challenge. If I can do that, I'm fine. I think that I want to get back in the habit of doing it anyway, even though it scares me. Reading all these writing quotes and ruminating on them has definitely stirred me up. And really, what is life if you dohn't do what scares you? I'm contemplating some bigger, scarier things in life, so I might as well get in practice with the daily stuff.
I think I'm going to go write.
Currently Listening:
"Hurt You" - The Sounds - great song that a friend just put on my computer, kind of addicting. Here's a great line from the song, "Should we start over or should I leave you behind/Give me an answer but please don't tell me the truth." LOL.
Musings on Artistic Integrity
This morning, I read this quote on writer friend Linda's blog:
"You practice an art to make your soul grow, not to make money or to become famous. And this would include singing in the shower or dancing to the radio or also drawing a caricature of your best friend, or whatever—all this makes your soul grow. And you meet a person who's done that, whether successfully or not, and you sense a larger soul." —Vonnegut
Linda and I have been discussing the importance of artistic integrity in recent emails, as we both go through the process of pursuing publication for our book manuscripts. So this quote, about how the deeper purpose is to make your soul grow, just absolutely hit the spot.
I think that writers, possibly more than other types of artists, are confronted with a lot of other people's opinions before, during and after working on any piece of writing. Critique groups, workshops, classes, readers (as in those who read first drafts and offer commentary), feedback from contests, agents and editors making editorial suggestions, and so on. It seems endless.
And a lot of the time, this is good. You get a different perspective, are shown things you might be blind to, gain insight and new, sometimes ingenious ideas.
But it also can be overwhelming. For one thing, I think it's important to choose readers/critiquers/etc wisely when possible, people who will help you realize your vision of the piece, rather than those who want to impose their own. And it's important to discern what suggestions feel right and which don't.
And that can be a lot harder than it seems. Especially when there's all this input coming from everywhere. And so many rules, whether in these groups and workshops, classes, or in writing books and magazines. You might read this or that is harder to sell (whether it's which point of view the story's in, a stylistic thing, word count, chapter length, subject matter that is or is not a hot topic). It can be daunting. It can be like trying to follow ever-changing fashion rules (which personally has always disgusted me to an extent). It can also steamroll right over that individual spark that fuels creativity in the first place. And when it comes from "authority figures" such as agents or editors, it can be even harder to sort out.
But I think ultimately, the artist or the writer has to be their own authority. I think sometimes compromise is the kiss of death. Yeah, that sounds a little drastic and probably is, but life is short, and it's way, way too easy to get caught up in what others will think, and I think that doing that is a sort of soul-denial on some level.
I've definitely fallen prey to it myself. Who hasn't? I find myself re-thinking some changes I made to my memoir. Some I absolutely think were right on, insightful suggestions. I think there were things I orginally sort of skirted around, that got deeper with each revision. And more clearly and succinctly described. Strangely, with editing, some parts got more raw, and I like that. There were a lot of non-essentials and extraneous bits in the first version, almost fluff, and I'm glad I axed it out. On the other hand, there are some things I'm not satisfied with, some things I took out that I loved, that I feel the story isn't complete without. It's been awhile too, so if I add them back in now, and re-read it over, I might have a clearer take on what truly adds to the story, and what doesn't.
I guess what I'm saying is I want to make my book the absolute best I can make it, in my vision, what intuitively in my guts feels like the truest and deepest expression of the story I most want to tell, not necessarily the story someone else wants to hear. I think THAT is where the soul growth comes from, a dedication to the real inner truth.
It got me thinking about who we write for. A writing teacher I love used to say, "We write to be read," which I think is true. For two amazing years I was part of the best writing group. Oh I could write volumes on how funny and deep and awesome those times were, one of my best memories ever, and something that I think changed everyone who was part of it, in a beautiful way. I was so prolific during those years, writing two hours every day, and I was definitely partly writing for them, which was great because this group welcomed everything real. It helped me get over a fear of being truthful about difficult things. It helped me get over a fear of reading difficult things. In that group, we laughed and cried and shared. That group was a great big permission slip to be as candid as humanly possible. It was sort of like unconditional artistic love, that group. And so yeah, I wrote for them. There was one woman who had the hugest, heartiest, loudest laugh. And I often felt like I wrote with her laugh in the back of my mind. Which was great - and that was great, because I let my humor come through, dark or otherwise and sort of helped that blossom in my writing, and helped me find irony and humor in lots of things, and be free to express.
I think we do write (or create) to be read or seen or heard or understood, so in a sense we write for others, but I also do think that we have to write for ourselves first. So I really liked that Vonnegut quote, the whole soul growth thing, I think that is possibly the only important rule to follow as a writer. I also like that the quote pays attention to small, daily acts of art and creativity as well. The playful things. The things that aren't for any serious project or pursuit, like singing in the shower. I think I'd say that anything done with passion falls into that soul growth category, and is a good thing to remember.
So, those are some thoughts for this Friday morning, all relevant to figuring out my next move in life...more on that in later blogs.
Currently Listening:
"Haven't You Heard?" - Jeff Buckley. Funny, this song always reminds me of a great moment in that writing group I mentioned. This song, which I love, during probably the most poignant, passionately heartbroken, difficult and rich summer of my life, started a fight between my sister and I, and later the next day, a huge fight with my mom. I wrote about that summer, this song and the fight and read it to said group, and one of the other writers told me that I had inspired her to feel great heights of lust and then rage in a matter of paragraphs, and that was exactly the sort of thing that made me write with those ladies in mind, that inspired me to write most passionately from the core of the soul.
"You practice an art to make your soul grow, not to make money or to become famous. And this would include singing in the shower or dancing to the radio or also drawing a caricature of your best friend, or whatever—all this makes your soul grow. And you meet a person who's done that, whether successfully or not, and you sense a larger soul." —Vonnegut
Linda and I have been discussing the importance of artistic integrity in recent emails, as we both go through the process of pursuing publication for our book manuscripts. So this quote, about how the deeper purpose is to make your soul grow, just absolutely hit the spot.
I think that writers, possibly more than other types of artists, are confronted with a lot of other people's opinions before, during and after working on any piece of writing. Critique groups, workshops, classes, readers (as in those who read first drafts and offer commentary), feedback from contests, agents and editors making editorial suggestions, and so on. It seems endless.
And a lot of the time, this is good. You get a different perspective, are shown things you might be blind to, gain insight and new, sometimes ingenious ideas.
But it also can be overwhelming. For one thing, I think it's important to choose readers/critiquers/etc wisely when possible, people who will help you realize your vision of the piece, rather than those who want to impose their own. And it's important to discern what suggestions feel right and which don't.
And that can be a lot harder than it seems. Especially when there's all this input coming from everywhere. And so many rules, whether in these groups and workshops, classes, or in writing books and magazines. You might read this or that is harder to sell (whether it's which point of view the story's in, a stylistic thing, word count, chapter length, subject matter that is or is not a hot topic). It can be daunting. It can be like trying to follow ever-changing fashion rules (which personally has always disgusted me to an extent). It can also steamroll right over that individual spark that fuels creativity in the first place. And when it comes from "authority figures" such as agents or editors, it can be even harder to sort out.
But I think ultimately, the artist or the writer has to be their own authority. I think sometimes compromise is the kiss of death. Yeah, that sounds a little drastic and probably is, but life is short, and it's way, way too easy to get caught up in what others will think, and I think that doing that is a sort of soul-denial on some level.
I've definitely fallen prey to it myself. Who hasn't? I find myself re-thinking some changes I made to my memoir. Some I absolutely think were right on, insightful suggestions. I think there were things I orginally sort of skirted around, that got deeper with each revision. And more clearly and succinctly described. Strangely, with editing, some parts got more raw, and I like that. There were a lot of non-essentials and extraneous bits in the first version, almost fluff, and I'm glad I axed it out. On the other hand, there are some things I'm not satisfied with, some things I took out that I loved, that I feel the story isn't complete without. It's been awhile too, so if I add them back in now, and re-read it over, I might have a clearer take on what truly adds to the story, and what doesn't.
I guess what I'm saying is I want to make my book the absolute best I can make it, in my vision, what intuitively in my guts feels like the truest and deepest expression of the story I most want to tell, not necessarily the story someone else wants to hear. I think THAT is where the soul growth comes from, a dedication to the real inner truth.
It got me thinking about who we write for. A writing teacher I love used to say, "We write to be read," which I think is true. For two amazing years I was part of the best writing group. Oh I could write volumes on how funny and deep and awesome those times were, one of my best memories ever, and something that I think changed everyone who was part of it, in a beautiful way. I was so prolific during those years, writing two hours every day, and I was definitely partly writing for them, which was great because this group welcomed everything real. It helped me get over a fear of being truthful about difficult things. It helped me get over a fear of reading difficult things. In that group, we laughed and cried and shared. That group was a great big permission slip to be as candid as humanly possible. It was sort of like unconditional artistic love, that group. And so yeah, I wrote for them. There was one woman who had the hugest, heartiest, loudest laugh. And I often felt like I wrote with her laugh in the back of my mind. Which was great - and that was great, because I let my humor come through, dark or otherwise and sort of helped that blossom in my writing, and helped me find irony and humor in lots of things, and be free to express.
I think we do write (or create) to be read or seen or heard or understood, so in a sense we write for others, but I also do think that we have to write for ourselves first. So I really liked that Vonnegut quote, the whole soul growth thing, I think that is possibly the only important rule to follow as a writer. I also like that the quote pays attention to small, daily acts of art and creativity as well. The playful things. The things that aren't for any serious project or pursuit, like singing in the shower. I think I'd say that anything done with passion falls into that soul growth category, and is a good thing to remember.
So, those are some thoughts for this Friday morning, all relevant to figuring out my next move in life...more on that in later blogs.
Currently Listening:
"Haven't You Heard?" - Jeff Buckley. Funny, this song always reminds me of a great moment in that writing group I mentioned. This song, which I love, during probably the most poignant, passionately heartbroken, difficult and rich summer of my life, started a fight between my sister and I, and later the next day, a huge fight with my mom. I wrote about that summer, this song and the fight and read it to said group, and one of the other writers told me that I had inspired her to feel great heights of lust and then rage in a matter of paragraphs, and that was exactly the sort of thing that made me write with those ladies in mind, that inspired me to write most passionately from the core of the soul.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
AmeriCorps and Other Possible Adventures
Wow, I'm exhausted. It's been awhile since I posted. I've been working a lot and also having a blast. I am just loving the group of people I'm working with this summer. I've also been busy researching every possible avenue for an adventure between now and next fall when I plan to go back to school. I've spent countless hours combing through AmeriCorps options, as well as any possibility I can find that could involve going abroad. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know. I feel like I have a lot of irons in the fire as the saying goes, and more would be even better.
Between last night and this morning, I did my (hopefully) last round of AmeriCorps combing. All told I looked through about 2000 listings. And narrowed it down to 20 to apply to. I'm feeling kind of adventurous, so none of the ones I picked are in WA. I think I've got a great array - some in CA (Bay Area/San Jose mostly), a few in Alaska, one in MD (for you, Linda), a few in New England, a few on other parts of the eastern seaboard, one in OR, one in New Orleans, one in Texas, one in AZ and one in West Virginia.
And I picked programs doing all sorts of different things. Some focus on volunteer recruitment, grantwriting and other things typically involved with running and fundraising for non-profit agencies. A few deal are aimed at alleviating poverty, a handful of others involve domestic violence/sexual assault prevention, a few positions are about mentoring at-risk youth or children with incarcerated parents, one is an agency for people with disabilities, one (and one of my favorites I must admit though it's not so social justice oriented) is working in a planetarium in Alaska. Since astronomy was my major for awhile in college, and a lifelong interest, that one jumped out at me immediately. That'd be so fucking cool. A few others are enironmental ed positions in cool places, like the coast of Maine, the mountains of WV, San Jose and New Orleans. And the biggest percentage of positions I applied for involve working with refugees and I think that rated so highly on my list because I really wish I could be working abroad, doing something with Peace Corps or a relief organization of some sort.
All I can say is things are set in motion. It's exciting to have all these options and I really want to pick something that will be adventurous, new, challenging, inspiring, and just a great experience with lots of opportunity for personal growth. Something good for my soul, I suppose.
So that's where I'm at at the moment, and still searching. So if anyone knows of any other cool opportunities or suggestions of what to do for a year, I'm interested.
Currently listening:
"Love Ridden" - Fiona Apple - Funny, I used to think of this song as a bad omen. It's a really sad song, lyrically and musically. I remember the first time I heard it - it was on my 25th birthday (which is interesting given the lyrics, which I'll include), and I wish I had paid more attention, instead of trying to fend off bad omens, because you can't really fend off the truth in a situation. That night is really clear in my mind, living in a room in a house full of people and drama, noticing the lyrics, relating in a way that, momentarily, because I identified, was really joyous. It's always great when someone puts your feelings into words. I'll highlight the lines that most struck chords with me. Maybe it was too accurate. For MONTHS I skipped this song whenever it came up. I just wish I had listened more closely. Strange how things evolve - now I love the song and appreciate it even more. Live and Learn, eh?
Anyway, here's the words:
Love Ridden
Fiona Apple
Love Ridden I will look at you
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles
I wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you
Nobody sees when you are lyin' in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you
But I cry instead
I want your warm but it will only make me colder
when it's over
So I can't tonight, baby
No, not baby anymore
If I need you I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while we'll only have to wave
My hand won't hold you down no more
The path is clear to follow through
I stood too long in the way of the door
Now I'm giving up...on...you
No, not baby anymore
If I need you I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while we'll only have to wave
Between last night and this morning, I did my (hopefully) last round of AmeriCorps combing. All told I looked through about 2000 listings. And narrowed it down to 20 to apply to. I'm feeling kind of adventurous, so none of the ones I picked are in WA. I think I've got a great array - some in CA (Bay Area/San Jose mostly), a few in Alaska, one in MD (for you, Linda), a few in New England, a few on other parts of the eastern seaboard, one in OR, one in New Orleans, one in Texas, one in AZ and one in West Virginia.
And I picked programs doing all sorts of different things. Some focus on volunteer recruitment, grantwriting and other things typically involved with running and fundraising for non-profit agencies. A few deal are aimed at alleviating poverty, a handful of others involve domestic violence/sexual assault prevention, a few positions are about mentoring at-risk youth or children with incarcerated parents, one is an agency for people with disabilities, one (and one of my favorites I must admit though it's not so social justice oriented) is working in a planetarium in Alaska. Since astronomy was my major for awhile in college, and a lifelong interest, that one jumped out at me immediately. That'd be so fucking cool. A few others are enironmental ed positions in cool places, like the coast of Maine, the mountains of WV, San Jose and New Orleans. And the biggest percentage of positions I applied for involve working with refugees and I think that rated so highly on my list because I really wish I could be working abroad, doing something with Peace Corps or a relief organization of some sort.
All I can say is things are set in motion. It's exciting to have all these options and I really want to pick something that will be adventurous, new, challenging, inspiring, and just a great experience with lots of opportunity for personal growth. Something good for my soul, I suppose.
So that's where I'm at at the moment, and still searching. So if anyone knows of any other cool opportunities or suggestions of what to do for a year, I'm interested.
Currently listening:
"Love Ridden" - Fiona Apple - Funny, I used to think of this song as a bad omen. It's a really sad song, lyrically and musically. I remember the first time I heard it - it was on my 25th birthday (which is interesting given the lyrics, which I'll include), and I wish I had paid more attention, instead of trying to fend off bad omens, because you can't really fend off the truth in a situation. That night is really clear in my mind, living in a room in a house full of people and drama, noticing the lyrics, relating in a way that, momentarily, because I identified, was really joyous. It's always great when someone puts your feelings into words. I'll highlight the lines that most struck chords with me. Maybe it was too accurate. For MONTHS I skipped this song whenever it came up. I just wish I had listened more closely. Strange how things evolve - now I love the song and appreciate it even more. Live and Learn, eh?
Anyway, here's the words:
Love Ridden
Fiona Apple
Love Ridden I will look at you
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles
I wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you
Nobody sees when you are lyin' in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you
But I cry instead
I want your warm but it will only make me colder
when it's over
So I can't tonight, baby
No, not baby anymore
If I need you I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while we'll only have to wave
My hand won't hold you down no more
The path is clear to follow through
I stood too long in the way of the door
Now I'm giving up...on...you
No, not baby anymore
If I need you I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while we'll only have to wave
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