- Alone in a quiet room. Listen. What do you hear?
The fire cracking in the woodstove,
The refrigerator grumbling and moaning,
The trickle of water in the aquarium,
A drip from the kitchen faucet,
The lights over my head murmuring quietly,
The computer monotonous and unvarying hum
My big white cat is nudging at my hand, trying to push into its favorite spot on the computers’ keyboard. We fight it out for few minutes and then disappointed, she heaves a deep sigh and stretches next to me purring.
Daily noises I don’t usually pay attention to but now, trying to sort them, one by one, I realize I live in the midst of a complete cacophony. I try to concentrate and block them out but by now, they become more and more noticeable and disturbing, quickly closing on me.
- Alone in a quiet room. What do you see?
The fire I just started in the woodstove. A skill I mastered not too long ago and compliment myself on. I like the repetitive process of choosing the logs, one by one, evaluating them for their burning qualities and lining them just so. Tucking some paper between them or cheating with a fire starter. I light the well constructed assembly of wood and nurse the small flame into life, with careful attention. It’s always a challenge. I get lost in the dancing flames with a deep sense of satisfaction. A mission well done, I feel genuinely accomplished.
- Alone in a quiet room. But what's really happening?
With the computer screen in front of me and my hands on the keys, I immerse myself in the familiar noises of the house, engulfing me, and within minutes I am transported into my “real” world. A journey of million miles can start with just one finger and one key.
The world at my fingertips, how potent is that,
Only lately this magical victorious trio; I, my fingers and the computer aren’t working as well. My writing energy seems to have lost its shine. I stumble amid the words; and they refuse to cooperate. I glue and stick and paste with no apparent success.
So I read, novels, short stories, self-help books by self-indulgent philosophers, nonfiction even magazines, a downpour of words that are not mine.
“Can’t give up”, I tell myself.
“Temporary dry spell, that’s all it is”,
“It’s all about self discipline”, I coax myself into not giving up.
So here I am with my fingers on the keyboard and my eyes fixed on the screen, still writing.
I honestly do not feel that the kind of writing you want to do is a matter of self-discipline. I know there are writers who sit down after breakfast and knock out 2000 words before lunch, every day, 365 days a year.
ReplyDeleteBut that style, which appears to an outsider like 'discipline' is more like a will to power and creation, terms you mention in another post. Grasping for those things is a matter of desire, not discipline.
Here you are writing about small things and invisible things and doing it in style, but at your point and your level, that's no problem. You don't need to hear me tell you that you're a good writer, even if it gives you a bit of cheer. At a certain point, a point you've long passed, we are ALL good writers.
Then one proceeds, finding out what one has to say and finding it out in the only possible way: by writing.