It's quiet here except for the dull vibration of the water coursing under our home to cool and nourish our lawn, and the slight tinkling of the ceiling fan in the living room; and the frogs and crickets chirping down by the pond-we can't forget their oh-so-peaceful summer chorus. These are usually the moments I am inspired to write-these, and rainy days-the dark, quiet, zen-inducing days. Though these are not the moments that the content arrives, but they are the moments the readiness to "pen" them does.
It's funny when and where the content arrives. I've read personal accounts of many other writers who receive their revelations as they lather their hair with shampoo, or zone out in 5 o'clock traffic, or brush the crud from their teeth at the end of the day. For me it's sometimes within these strange daily rituals that my story takes shape, but many times it's at an even more inconvenient time: right as I'm finally drifting off to sleep at night-or trying very hard to stay asleep past 6am on a Saturday. And we all know why this is the way the writing genie grants your wish for great material--it's because your mind is finally an empty vessel, be it a mere 3-minute window or a glorious 10. It's also most certainly never the moment you have a pen and pencil to jot the stuff down, or even a free hand to type it into your phone or computer. It becomes quite the exercise in memory retention-and letting go of control.
When I was pursuing my degree in Fine Arts at the University of Colorado, in Colorado Springs, one of my professors had the most sadistic but effective methods of curing all of us students of perfectionism. She would have us work for days--weeks even--on the same still life study until we were fully satisfied with our work. Then, she would have us erase every line, every mark, every detail of our composition until only the faintest veins of our toil remained. And then we would have to start again-the same still life, the same piece of paper, a new composition built on top of the grave of the old. We had no idea if we would have to endure the process once again, how many layers of graves there would be. Your mind wants so badly to just re-trace the lines and resurrect the body underneath, but your gut knows that there is something even more amazing yet to be birthed if you can just let go of the past. I wasn't especially grateful then for that lesson, but I am now. Now, when my mind suddenly explodes with material I've been waiting for, and then as quickly as it appeared, vanishes from my mind leaving only the traces of the body, I can take a deep breath and watch as it's buried beneath the sands of business until all is quiet again and there is nothing but me and the dim memories of what was-and the great anticipation of what is yet to come.
And gosh, that anticipation gives me such a high. I think I love the feeling of sitting down in front of my computer to finally bring to life--to our physical reality--the workings and fantasies within my mind just as much as actually seeing them in the flesh, fully birthed and standing there on their own after all the toil. They may not be perfect, they may not ever be as grand as the virgin inspirations were, but they were the ones that were meant to last.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Where we go from here
Finally! Finally the day has come for new posts, new direction, new
beginnings. But before I can take you forward we must first understand
where we've been. As I looked back through my blog, which I began 5
years ago, I realized something revelatory: here it is...wait for
it....I am not the same today as I was back then. Deep stuff right?!! I
bet you're glad you waited for that little nugget of wisdom. But
truthfully, I realize that the "I've just been thrown into motherhood
and I don't know what the heck I'm doing, but I'm gonna find a way to
survive" me that was blogging was doing it for the connection, yet the
me of today would not be doing it for the same. In that season I needed
to connect with myself. I needed to connect to the hearts of other moms
in a similar place. I needed to connect my family and friends with what
I was going through. I needed to connect with the new me that was
unsure of who I was being forced to become, but wanted to make sure I
didn't lose hold of the me that I felt had to remain in there. Today, I
am relieved to discover that I held on, I'm still here, and I'm ready to
re-emerge stronger, healthier, and a lot more adjusted (i.e. humbled).
And honestly, those reasons for connecting may always be a factor in my
blogging, but in this season it is different. The scope is bigger. Much,
much bigger.
Something was birthed along with my children; something that was lying dormant for a long time inside of me. I'm quite familiar now with how God reveals His big leaps of faith for me: through the "suddenlies". Suddenly, I knew I was going to marry Aaron, though I was only 15 years old at the time. Suddenly, I realized we needed to start our family, though that wasn't "in the plan" for at least another 5-10 years. Suddenly, we needed to be on the hunt for a miracle home. And suddenly, writing had to be a part of my every day. I've always loved writing but never considered it something of great importance to my future, until a few years ago. I felt I simultaneously needed to document the present and start writing for the future. So I started journals and lists, then came Myspace, blogging and then the new-and-improved yet slightly more "grown up" and serious Facebook (it really was before all of Myspace made exodus there). All of these gave me avenues for documenting and introspection and inspiration but none of them felt like "the" avenue. Like that tiny speck within an oyster that causes so much irritation, I felt so unsettled. I knew I had the makings of something mysterious and valuable inside of me, but it needed many years of processing before it could be harvested. And sure enough, I think it's time to be lifted to the surface, opened up and hopeful that what's been forming inside is something this world has need of.
This is the future of this blog, the revealing of some of that. It's becoming more of a factor in "the" avenue, but there is something else. Some of you already know, but I'm also in-process writing a novel. And at this point, I'm fairly confident that it is "the" thing I've been waiting for. I'll share with you the process of writing this book as I journey, but this blog is less about the book and more about process. To state the very obvious-I've always been a wordy processor-I've never been accused of being too guarded with my thoughts or opinions. Though less obviously, I am a fairly introverted person. So this may not seem like a "new" me, being willing to be vocal about the matters of my heart. And for that, I have no reassurances, but for what it's worth the purpose of this blog has changed, and in that I believe you will discover the new as it is written. That being said, I have been advised that I can come off as judgmental. This unpleasant aspect of the calling I feel on my life, is the thorn in my side-the thing that humbles me more than anything else. It's what reminds me constantly that I am flesh and blood, only a vessel that receives and pours out, not the One making the wine. I feel the need to be honest about this before I take you with me any farther-not because you need to be reminded of my humanness, but because I do. I am curious of the world, curious of it's makings, it's people and most especially the Maker of it all. I think long and hard about things before I speak about them, but sometimes the re-processing with others can still be ill-timed or ill-worded. The best I can offer you here is my commitment to constantly seek wisdom, and the best you can offer me is grace. Like Solomon, you can have all the riches of the world but it truly amounts to nothing without wisdom.
And that brings me to all of you, my friends and family near and far that have stuck with me, or followed me here. Stephen King, in his writer's manual "On Writing", talks about every author (whether fiction, non-fiction, novels or just Facebook posters) has an intended audience in mind when they write. He calls them the "IR" or Ideal Reader. This imaginary person represents the listening ears of the ideal person you'd want to read your material, the person you want to reach or teach or inspire. My IRs are the fellow curious people of the world...the seekers, the thinkers, the avid readers, the people who won't look at the world around us and take it as-is. And I believe you wouldn't be here, a blog-reader, if you didn't possess those qualities. So I promise that I will share with you what I am discovering, what I hope for and, as candidly as I can, what I am doing with what I find. But you have to promise me that you won't take it as-is. Promise me that you will take what I say and think on it for yourself, that you will see my writings for what they are-my curiosity, my pondering, my fears, my struggles and my revelations, and no matter how well thought out, still rough around the edges at times. We have to do it with a mutual understanding that it'll be a fine line for me to walk as the impress-er to impart wisdom and not judgement, and I won't always succeed. You'll have an equally delicate job as the impress-ee to receive it as such.
So if you're ready to do this with me, then this is where we go from here.
Something was birthed along with my children; something that was lying dormant for a long time inside of me. I'm quite familiar now with how God reveals His big leaps of faith for me: through the "suddenlies". Suddenly, I knew I was going to marry Aaron, though I was only 15 years old at the time. Suddenly, I realized we needed to start our family, though that wasn't "in the plan" for at least another 5-10 years. Suddenly, we needed to be on the hunt for a miracle home. And suddenly, writing had to be a part of my every day. I've always loved writing but never considered it something of great importance to my future, until a few years ago. I felt I simultaneously needed to document the present and start writing for the future. So I started journals and lists, then came Myspace, blogging and then the new-and-improved yet slightly more "grown up" and serious Facebook (it really was before all of Myspace made exodus there). All of these gave me avenues for documenting and introspection and inspiration but none of them felt like "the" avenue. Like that tiny speck within an oyster that causes so much irritation, I felt so unsettled. I knew I had the makings of something mysterious and valuable inside of me, but it needed many years of processing before it could be harvested. And sure enough, I think it's time to be lifted to the surface, opened up and hopeful that what's been forming inside is something this world has need of.
This is the future of this blog, the revealing of some of that. It's becoming more of a factor in "the" avenue, but there is something else. Some of you already know, but I'm also in-process writing a novel. And at this point, I'm fairly confident that it is "the" thing I've been waiting for. I'll share with you the process of writing this book as I journey, but this blog is less about the book and more about process. To state the very obvious-I've always been a wordy processor-I've never been accused of being too guarded with my thoughts or opinions. Though less obviously, I am a fairly introverted person. So this may not seem like a "new" me, being willing to be vocal about the matters of my heart. And for that, I have no reassurances, but for what it's worth the purpose of this blog has changed, and in that I believe you will discover the new as it is written. That being said, I have been advised that I can come off as judgmental. This unpleasant aspect of the calling I feel on my life, is the thorn in my side-the thing that humbles me more than anything else. It's what reminds me constantly that I am flesh and blood, only a vessel that receives and pours out, not the One making the wine. I feel the need to be honest about this before I take you with me any farther-not because you need to be reminded of my humanness, but because I do. I am curious of the world, curious of it's makings, it's people and most especially the Maker of it all. I think long and hard about things before I speak about them, but sometimes the re-processing with others can still be ill-timed or ill-worded. The best I can offer you here is my commitment to constantly seek wisdom, and the best you can offer me is grace. Like Solomon, you can have all the riches of the world but it truly amounts to nothing without wisdom.
And that brings me to all of you, my friends and family near and far that have stuck with me, or followed me here. Stephen King, in his writer's manual "On Writing", talks about every author (whether fiction, non-fiction, novels or just Facebook posters) has an intended audience in mind when they write. He calls them the "IR" or Ideal Reader. This imaginary person represents the listening ears of the ideal person you'd want to read your material, the person you want to reach or teach or inspire. My IRs are the fellow curious people of the world...the seekers, the thinkers, the avid readers, the people who won't look at the world around us and take it as-is. And I believe you wouldn't be here, a blog-reader, if you didn't possess those qualities. So I promise that I will share with you what I am discovering, what I hope for and, as candidly as I can, what I am doing with what I find. But you have to promise me that you won't take it as-is. Promise me that you will take what I say and think on it for yourself, that you will see my writings for what they are-my curiosity, my pondering, my fears, my struggles and my revelations, and no matter how well thought out, still rough around the edges at times. We have to do it with a mutual understanding that it'll be a fine line for me to walk as the impress-er to impart wisdom and not judgement, and I won't always succeed. You'll have an equally delicate job as the impress-ee to receive it as such.
So if you're ready to do this with me, then this is where we go from here.
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