Dreams

Sometimes I feel like I need a map to my dreams.  They flitter and float about my head and I dare not look directly at them fearing they will vanish like vapor. 

Alan Gurganus

...people need maps to your dreams.

Paul Valery, French Poet

In the first draft is the talent, in the second is the art.

Jack London

You can't wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club.

Charles Brower

A new idea is delicate.  It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.

Frank Capra

A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something.

Taking A Break

Having just finished the crappy (emphasis on crappy) first draft of my second novel I am now required to take a break.  The idea is that you have to get away from the work for a spell, get perspective.  The best way to do this is to refuse to even look at it "for at least a month" (according to Bethany).  This is not an easy task.  My ending is so dreadful.  I can't wait to change it.  Every chapter is lacking important plot-heavy details that would help the story make sense.  And character dialogue keeps running through my mind at inconvenient times (they seem to talk more, now, than when I was actually writing).


On a side note I totally caved and re-read my first chapter...it's awful.  Worst part?  It's the best chapter I have in the book...proving that Bethany was right and I should probably get some perspective.


In the meantime, I am having Writing Withdrawals.  I'm dreaming of zombie apocalypses, alien dragons, with breathing tubes, attacking the earth, and feeling cranky.  I need my writing fix.  


NaNoWriMo is just around the corner.


My thoughts diverge here.  


Like a new romance, I worry that putting my novel down and focusing on another project will cool my feelings.  That at the end of our separation I will have lost the sound of my characters voices, that I won't be able regurgitate the internal motivation to create--in their world.  How do I cling to my novel, while fervently pouring myself into something else?  Will working on a new project give me the perspective I need or pour cold water on the fires of creativity?


On the other hand.  At least NaNo allows me to write...something.  I hate waking up in the morning and having no project.  I'm anxious, and empty.  I feel more like a writer than I've ever felt, as I come face to face with the hole it has left behind in my soul.  NaNo is a writing vacation, an exercise in perspective, that allows me to write.

Autumn

Leaves rustle as the wind sweeps them in giant circles across the pavement.

Writing

I feel the echoes of poet Allen Ginsberg in my soul, burning up my heart and bringing tears to my eyes.  When asked by students at Yale University, if there was a moment when he consciously decided to become a poet.  Ginsberg said,

 'It wasn't quite a choice--it was a realization.'*

Oh how this realization has been bubbling up inside of me, a spring of joy, an obsession--in a good way.  How right the world feels when I write.


It brings to mind a quote I have written on an index card attached to the cork board that sits above my computer, encouraging me in my daily work

When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
--Anne Sexton

If I never get published...if the world never hears about me, or reads a single one of my words...daily I get the privilege of entering into the act of creation, with my Creator, and I discover that there is no more daunting or rewarding task than this. 


*Excerpted from On Writing Well --Zinsser

Massive Insomnia

def.--Laying in bed (awake) until midnight, drifting off to sleep for two hours, laying in bed (awake) from 2 am-4am, giving up on sleep.

Battling A Case of the Insecurities

My favorite ocean memories come from the time I spent at the beaches near Fort Walton Beach, FL.  The water was clear and warm, beautiful in ways that make the Pacific envious.  I loved walking out far enough that, as each wave came in to beat on the shore, it would first raise me up.  My feet would leave the sand and I would float in peace until the wave set me back down.  Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are like this.  I'm mostly OK, and there are times when God picks me up and holds me close in his hands and I feel my feet leave the sand.  
There are times in the ocean, however, when you misjudge a wave.  The water, no longer gentle, pummels you with a rage that sets your heart on edge.  You are no longer lifted up and floating, rather your body is crushed down into the sand with great force.  In these times you fear for your life.  You hold your breath longer than you dreamed possible and you swim and push and fight against the sand trying to find the direction of the air.  Sometimes my melancholy and insecurities are more like this.  The enemy has taken the gloves off, he's thrown the gauntlet and we are going to battle.  My God is still there watching every move closely, keeping the enemy on a short leash.  He's still there rooting for me, loving me, and preparing for my battle victory.  The knowledge of such wonderful things should turn the tide for me, make my victory easier.  It should.  It does...make it easier but not easy.