Tags
Anne Lamott, bird by bird, Iowa Summer Writing Festival, Summer Olympics, Women's Gymnastics, Writing, Writing Life
This side of the Iowa Summer Writing Festival, writing is grand except when it’s not.
For the record, yesterday was definitely a ‘NOT” sort of day. Which means I know I should have given it up and enjoyed my latest Richard Russo novel. But, no. I kept banging away at the keyboard — like a fool in pursuit of fool’s gold — drawing line after line of gibberish, circling back and forth, top to bottom, until, — TA-DA — Five Golden Rings. I mean, five digital pages.
What can I say? I was on a mad dive to reach that illusory end of my introductory chapter — (Version 7.0) — which meant I was acting like a hawk ready to pounce on a cat.
Setting aside for a moment whether hawks can actually pounce on cats (or whether, the pouncing, in fact, works in reverse order, as it does with smaller birds — sparrows, titmice, cardinal and mourning doves…), the word ‘cat’ is the very place I wish to pounce upon myself, because by the end of yesterday, spelling first-grade words like C-A-T felt WAY out of my reach.
Yesterday, I slapped away at that keyboard for eight horrible hours. Okay, maybe it was ten. The point is that I knew I was typing crap, I knew that very few lines were keepers, but I kept working anyway. Why, if my husband hadn’t sounded the gong to let me know that women’s gymnastics was on the family room telly, I might have written another two hours. Or more.
There are two things about my watching women’s gymnastics last night that I found helpful to my writing life. One was just sitting like the proverbial couch potato with my mouth wide open. Yes, like the rest of the Summer Olympic television audience, I was under the spell of those young women from Romania and Russia and China and Great Britain and the U.S.A.
I mean, did you happen to catch those circles that they wrote with their bodies? In the air while landing on a four-inch wooden apparatus — making it all seem like child’s play? Except, of course, for those who were having a bad writing day. Like me. These I saw missing the plank and landing on the floor. Kerplunk.
Medal-winning performances are grand, of course, but I found myself admiring the fallen gymnasts more. Especially as I watched them pick up their disappointed selves and stiffen their resolve and climb up and finish their circles on top of that straight thin line, even though they knew there would be no medals for them, at the end of their fabulous circling dismounts. Except for the one who landed on her buns.
The second thing about my television break that i found helpful came from grabbing one of my favorite inspirational writing books by Ann Lamott, which I began to read again, between gymnastic routines. It’s called bird by bird, and if you’ve never had the pleasure, I heartily recommend it for your writing life. The book is hilarious. HILARIOUS. Especially the part where Lamott waxes poetic over the need for shitty first drafts. I went to bed last night feeling a little more hopeful than I otherwise would have, thanks to that creative break, which felt sort of like a coaching session.
And this morning? Well, today I woke into a great writing life. Not only could I spell C-A-T but sometimes, I was also able to spell C-A-T-I-P-I-L-L-A-R. And once, though it was a long way off, I could almost catch a glimpse of what those digital scribbles on the page might one day become. After its chrysalis break-through.
I also decided, this morning, that I would no longer write to o’dark hundred any day of the week. And today, I slipped, and worked to 3:14. But from here on out, it’s a 9 a.m to 3 p.m writing schedule for me — and I’ll write within this carved block of time, whether it means six hours of writing or something much less.
No matter what.
No matter what birds or bees or cats or caterpillars or hawks might be circling around my mind or page that I feel the need to chase. And at the other end of the balance beam, no matter what wicked witches from Kansas (or neighboring corn-growing states like Iowa?), might be writing nasty messages — in circles, with their broomsticks in the sky — beginning with the word, S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R.
Surrender? Never. No matter what. Unless it’s another day like yesterday.
an everyday life 
I admire you for making the commitment to write each day and sticking with it. I will have to look at bird by bird and add it to my “to-read” list; and I hear ya about the unsung heroes of the Olympics. I wish that we heard as much about them as we do the medal winners. IMO, they are the true heroes.
Hey, Jenny, good to ‘see’ you again. Hope all is well with you and your building project and your gardening and your new life on your northern Oklahoma farmette.
I don’t know whether I will actually work on the novel project everyday or not. I do hope to show up for as many of those six carved-out daily hours that I can — but today, I had an appointment and one errand that chewed up half of the time, but it felt good, anyway, to write 3 hours and felt better to leave the rest for tomorrow and the next day and the next and the….
Yes, do give bird by bird a try. Since you have a true gift for conveying the humorous angle of everyday life in such an engaging way, I think you’ll find that you and Lamott are a good fit.
Thanks for dropping in — I’ll be by soon.
Janell
Glad you’re all charged up for writing. The Olympic gymnasts make a wonderful metaphor. Only one can win (or 3 depends on your view about medal counts), but everyone gives it all. Isn’t writing a similar endeavor (in a much smaller scale)… and like the gymnasts, I’m sure, despite falling, and reaching short of medals, they’ve found meaning and challenge and enjoyment in their effort. Bird by Bird is very practical and useful. But you know what I’m finishing right now, and found it tremendously insightful: you know it well, Robert McKee’s Story. 😉
I think of McKee ever so often, but I haven’t picked it up since January. But I did enjoy the first third (I think?) that I read before my spring class was cancelled — and I’m glad to hear you’re finding it helpful, too.
It’s funny. I have more than a few writing books on my ‘writing chair’ at this very minute. Two are old-fashioned grammar books to help me brush up on sentence construction. The other three are part-inspiration and part-writing mechanics. My newest writing book is Janet Burroway’s (Florida State University) college course text book, Writing Fiction. It’s filled with great quotes and reads like a dream rather than any textbook I ever used. I love her first lines — “You want to write. Why is is so hard?”
And here’s another jewel I stumbled across while eating my morning cereal with blueberries —
“If you haven’t surprised yourself, you haven’t written.” — Eudora Welty.
Your phrase — ‘charged-up for writing’ caught my attention. I like the visual it brings, and the fact that the charging can work both ways — I can be charged-up and have a bad writing day — and at the same time, I can just slink to my writing chair and be Eudora Welty surprised and leave all charged-up, ready to focus on other areas of my life.
Like cooking supper in an hour. And gardening this morning. And reading Richard Russo every chance I can make!
What in the world is wrong with me? I haven’t watched a lick of the Olympics this year. Part of it’s no tv, of course. That’s a bit of an impediment. But I could have made arrangements to watch at least a bit, and yet I’ve had no interest.
The only one who’s caught my interest at all is the fellow who ran with the blades instead of feet. It wasn’t so much the controversy (should he? shouldn’t he?) as the reminder it became of an old, old story. Remember the book “Games People Play”? One of the games in there was called “Broken Leg”. It’s the game of people who are full of the excuses of life. Go out for dinner? Oh, I can’t – I have food allergies. Finish a degree? Oh, I can’t. I have too many family responsibilities. Finally take that trip? Oh, I can’t. You see, I have to stay home and take care of (mom, dad, him, her, the kids).
In other words, we all have broken legs of one sort or another that keep up from running the race. Except that fellow who didn’t have any legs, and ran in the Olympics anyway. I’m thinking about that a lot.
Otherwise, life goes on. It’s hotter than Hades and I’m blessed to have work under a shed this coming week, when it’s going to hit 100. There’s a group of three baby sparrows outside the window who are all about fluttering their wings to be fed when mom and dad are around, but who happily eat on their own when there isn’t a parent to coerce. I’m spending this entire weekend trying to get caught up with blog reading, commenting and emails, so I can have a fresh start this week. Things are getting a little out of control around here, and I need to carve out more time for writing of my own. I keep griping about that – maybe I should check myself out for a broken leg! 😉
Maybe you should.
So say you broke your leg — wink,wink — what would your recuperation time look like? What would you do with even three days of unclaimed time? Would you be catching up on correspondence OR composing a story that had captured your imagination?
You know, there’s so much that’s good about life that it’s hard to make choices. With endless time, I’d be in the garden three hours a day, I’d write for six, I’d read novels continuously, check on favorite blogs regularly and watch television sometimes — right now, the Olympics, because it’s on and, other than sharing a meal, it’s the activity that best connects me to my husband. But wait. There’s more. I’d also manage to install the new gardens I’ve been dreaming about and paint the exterior of my house and help Sis restore a dresser she inherited two years ago from our parents and help my aunt with her kitchen renovation…. and on and on it would go.
Knowing I’m no super hero, I’ve placed all those personal special Olympic projects on the back burner. To use your analogy, my leg is broken with respect to all special projects, so I can devote myself to what’s cooking on the front burners. Someday, I turn off all but one or two burners so I can dedicate myself to those endeavors.
Anyway, all those questions in the first paragraph — I hope you regard them as simple rhetorical devices.
Well, it’s only 11:05 a.m. and already I’ve solved one of the Big Issues of life – I found a good car wash for Princess! It’s close, they do everything by hand, it has a lovely, shaded waiting area surrounded by bougainvillea and palms, and the Spanish music and the chatter of the “car boys” makes it feel a little like Tampico. Fresh juice, coffee and muffins on Sunday morning, too!
It took them an hour, and while I waited? I read a book. I think my leg feels slightly better today!
That sounds a fine way to spend a Sunday morning. It’s funny how the solution of one small problem can restore our equilibrium so that our worlds are no longer spinning but set aright. I’ve been struggling with one opening line all day — I have all the pieces, but so far, no go. I’ll sleep on it and maybe I’ll wake up with order tomorrow. Like you, I invested an hour of my afternoon in a feel-good — with the help of a hot iron and a water spray bottle and my ironing board. I do hate to iron more than anything, but there is something nice about smelling clean linen and cotton. And the bonus will come in not having to glance at that stack of laundry waiting for me — like the incredible hulk — every time I walk through the laundry room. That hour will make me feel good for two or three days.
Glad you had a good Sunday morning. Now, here’s to good weeks for both of us!
Hi Janell,
Just to let you know I’ve just posted the read-along plan of Anna Karenina. Excited to have you join in!
Arti,
Thanks for the heads up. I haven’t checked in to the blog for a couple of days, so good to get your note. It’s a rainy day here. Perfect for reading or a movie.
Janell