If you are a writer – you know –
WRITING IS MAGIC
It is also the most abusive art form in the world. If you are a writer, that is.
Don’t worry, what I just said is a cosmic lie, a media scam, a thoroughly evolved caricature illusion of what a writer should be like, look like, and feel like. If you are a writer you’ve most definitely experienced being frequently abused by your own passion; the words you write haunt you in the middle of the night with chest gripping humiliation, and the words you don’t write, that you should’ve written, are lost. You have no money to offer up as a reward.
that’s what you are if you are writer. Also you are alone (a loner). You are desperate. Your highest wish is to be blessed by the muse. You desire nothing more than to slip inside that rare and coveted chamber called phenomenal success.
The trickiest place to be falls into the category of “aspiring”. Some aspiring writers truly are that… they aspire to one day write. Other aspiring writers, write, and write, and write, and write, and write, to no end. They are aspiring for someone (or a lot of someones), to deem them:
Period. Offically. Writer, Author, Master of the Muse. Writer minus the aspiring, writer plus the money in the bank. Anyhow, if you are an aspiring writer chances are you are stuck there, trapped inside the glass walls of your own hard-wired brain mimicry called wannabe.
This is about the Art of Writing
Think of it this way. You, the writer, are a tree. The flow of words are your sap. If you don’t write, your trunk dries up. You turn into brittle (and bitter) kindling. A raging fire burns a massive desert into the forest of books you could have written. The only thing you can do, even though its the last thing in the world you want to do, is drip your diary down into the dirt. You must plant some seeds of wonder. (Something about this mimicry makes us writers actually hate writing. It’s the curse of our inheritance: needing to, wanting to, having to, and yet resisting it the whole way through.)
I’ve collected a tiny amount of inspiration for you. We are suckers for it aren’t we? We need to feel like we are getting somewhere, as though we’ve been enlightened and enlivened by the tiniest glimpse of the philosophers stone. We crave the camaraderie. Another writers advice is like sipping from a canteen of Everclear- sometimes it clears your head right up, other times it just burns. We love rejecting someone else’s ideas just as much as we love embracing them. We grasp for that inner gasp of knowing that THIS is what it’s all been for…THIS something nothing we all stumble upon as readers, as writers. This is the magic.
We write ourselves into a dizzy for the momentary delight of being unwound. The impact of any work can best be calculated by the length of stunned spaciousness it provides (for both the writer and the potential reader). How many times did you have to put it down just to relish in the awe of it all? Did the reader finish the book just to pounce through the aisles for the next, or did they STOP, and listen–paused inside the unraveling hush of secrets impossible to speak?
We write to produce as many silences as possible. We read to blow our mind. It doesn’t take so many damn words to get there, but if you are writer, it’s your convoluted ride of choice.
You have arrived. You are arriving. You will arrive. Keep writing.
Here are two little clearings to help you go about your writerly days free from the tortured memes of mimicry. Ask yourself the questions, read them out loud, and then let the ENGERY of the answer rise (it will happen automatically). Then destory and uncreate all that bullshit. In other words, ask, allow, and let the f*3& go.
What bio mimicry are you using to emphasize the self-tortured writer you are choosing?
What bio mimicry are you using to annihilate the ease of writing you could be choosing?
Everything that is, destroy and uncreate times godzillion. Right and wrong, good and bad, pod and poc, all nine shorts boys and beyond.
Time to get on with it. Read on for INSPIRATION
Six Bits of Advice to Chew On
If you will stay close to nature, to its simplicity, to the small things hardly noticeable, those things can unexpectedly become great and immeasurable.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
If you will love what seems to be insignificant and will in an unassuming manner, as a servant, seek to win the confidence of what seems poor, then everything will become easier, more harmonious, and somehow more conciliatory, not for your intellect – that will most likely remain behind, astonished – but your your inner most consciousness, your awakeness, and your inner knowing
You are so young; you stand before beginnings. I would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.
Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language.
Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.
LETTERS TO A YOUNG NOVELIST
Although the staring point of a novelist’s invention is what he has lived, that is not, and cannot be, it’s ending point.
~ Mario Vargas Llosa
The inventions end is located at considerable distance – sometimes a cosmic distance from its origin, because as a theme is embodied in language and narrative, the autobiographical material is transformed, enriched (sometimes leached of value), integrated with other remembered or invented materials, and manipulated and structured – if the novel is a real creation – until it achieves the complete autonomy that fiction must assume to live of its own accord.
The smart thing to say, I think, is that the way out of this bind is to work your way somehow back to your original motivation – fun.
~ David Foster Wallace
And, if you can find your way back to fun, you will find that the hideously unfortunate double-bind of the late vain period turns out really to have been good luck for you. Because the fun you work back to has been transfigured by the extreme unpleasantness of vanity and fear, an unpleasantness you’re now so anxious to avoid that the fun you rediscover is a way fuller and more large-hearted kind of fun. It has something to do
with Work as Play. Or with the discovery that disciplined fun is more than impulsive or hedonistic fun. Or with figuring out that not all paradoxes have to be paralyzing.
Under fun’s new administration, writing fiction becomes a way to go deep inside yourself and illuminate precisely the stuff you don’t want to see or let anyone else see, and this stuff usually turns out (paradoxically) to be precisely the stuff all writers and readers everywhere share and respond to, feel.
Fiction becomes a weird way to countenance yourself and to tell the truth instead of being a way to escape yourself or present yourself in a way you figure you will be maximally likable. This process is complicated and confusing and scary, and also hard work, but it turns
out to be the best fun there is.
WRITING DOWN THE BONES
Some people hear the rule “Write every day” and do it and don’t improve. They are just being dutiful.
That is the way of the Goody Two-shoes. It is a waste of energy because it takes tremendous effort to just follow the rules if your heart isn’t into it. If you find that this is your basic attitude, then stop writing. Stay away from it for a week or a year. Wait until you are hungry to say something, until there is an aching in you to speak. Then come back.
Don’t worry. You won’t have lost time. Your energy will be more direct and less wasted. This does not mean “Great, I’ll stay away for a little while and then come back wanting to do it and I won’t have any more trouble.” There will always be trouble, but the embers of expression deep inside you will have had some space and air to really begin to glow. You will have made a deeper commitment and come back more fully choosing to engage.
It is also good to remember that if you have been pushing hard for a while – a few weeks, a month, a whole weekend non-stop – rest completely for a while.
Do something totally different and stop thinking about writing. Go paint the living room that looks dark and ugly; paint it white. Try baking some of the desserts that you cut out of the recipes for in your local newspaper. Put full energy into something else. Do your taxes or play with your kids totally for two weeks. You will learn your own rhythm – when you need to write and when you need to rest. This will give you a deeper relationship with yourself. You won’t follow rules blindly.
When rereading last week’s work, the trick is to stop for a biscuit just before your blood sugar levels drop to ‘every single word of this is worthless.’
I am Chelsea – a writer, fabric artist, mama, and earth lover. I’m creating an artist residency and retreat of epic proportions and also launching an earth based kids magazine. You can become a part of the hippydom on Patreon for as little as $1! On this blog I write advice on freeing your creativity, living your best life, and wild-raising a kid to be joyously themselves. Keep in touch through Instagram, and Facebook. Subscribe to my YouTube Channel Happy Hippydom for new videos every week!