"Once I begin the act of writing, it all falls away -- the view from the window, the tools, the talismans, and I am unconscious of myself... one's carping inner critics are silenced for a time... there is always a surprise, a revelation. During the act of writing, I have told myself something that I didn't know I knew." ~ Gail Goodwin
I came across this quote today, and I felt the urge to share it. For isn't it the truth? Isn't that one of the great reasons that we writers write? To experience a falling away of the world and an inner revelation of self?
I come to know myself through writing. It answers the hard questions. Who am I? What do I truly believe? What morals do I stand by? Which acts can I justify? And how far would I really be willing to go to get what I want?
The world is full of people who would tell you what to believe. The media is constantly bombarding you with it's skewed idea of what is right and what is wrong. Books would try to sway you. Friends would try to make us understand. And that's fine. It's important to be open-minded. But we also need to decide for ourselves what we believe, what we want, who we are.
For me, this is what I discover when I write. Sometimes I don't even know until I get to the end of a piece. Until a core piece of me bleeds out onto the page. But when I see it there in black and white, it's always an "aha" moment. It's always an "Of course! How could I not have realized." It's an inner truth. A seed that was germinating somewhere deep inside us, just waiting to be brought out into the light. Or as Gail Goodwin called it, "a revelation."
What is your writing trying to tell you about yourself?
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Friday, March 02, 2012
Hello? Is This Thing On?
So wow. Was my last post here really a year and a half ago? Hard to believe. Are any of my followers still signed up? I wouldn't wonder if they're not.
It's strange how life moves and grows and twists and turns and tumbles us about like laundry in a dryer. Misplacing some of us like the other sock. Or spiriting us away, if you believe in the sock fairy.
Ever feel like that? Like even though you're there in your life, you're not really there in your life? Days bleed together and then weeks and months and before you know it, a year and a half has passed and you awake to find you've been checked out all this time? That somewhere along the way, you've lost your voice? Your platform? Your say-so?
Not that life hasn't been busy. Most likely, it's because it's been so busy that other things, things like this blog, for example, have fallen by the wayside. But I never forgot. Somewhere in the back of my mind, like the faded remembrance of a dream you once had, I knew this place was still here. Sitting quiet and still and patient, waiting for the day I'd need it again. Waiting for the day I'd find my voice.
So here I am. Ready to speak up and speak out about the one word that still most accurately describes who I am at my very core: WRITER.
If you've got a voice, I'd love to hear from you. If you're still searching for yours, like that missing sock, you're welcome to borrow mine until you find it. We'll make a colorful mismatched pair together.
It's strange how life moves and grows and twists and turns and tumbles us about like laundry in a dryer. Misplacing some of us like the other sock. Or spiriting us away, if you believe in the sock fairy.
Ever feel like that? Like even though you're there in your life, you're not really there in your life? Days bleed together and then weeks and months and before you know it, a year and a half has passed and you awake to find you've been checked out all this time? That somewhere along the way, you've lost your voice? Your platform? Your say-so?
Not that life hasn't been busy. Most likely, it's because it's been so busy that other things, things like this blog, for example, have fallen by the wayside. But I never forgot. Somewhere in the back of my mind, like the faded remembrance of a dream you once had, I knew this place was still here. Sitting quiet and still and patient, waiting for the day I'd need it again. Waiting for the day I'd find my voice.
So here I am. Ready to speak up and speak out about the one word that still most accurately describes who I am at my very core: WRITER.
If you've got a voice, I'd love to hear from you. If you're still searching for yours, like that missing sock, you're welcome to borrow mine until you find it. We'll make a colorful mismatched pair together.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Expert Advice
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Expert Advice
“What I try to do is write. I may write
for two weeks ‘the cat sat on the mat, that
is that, not a rat.’
And it might be just
the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing,
I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll come.’"
~ Maya Angelou
for two weeks ‘the cat sat on the mat, that
is that, not a rat.’
And it might be just
the most boring and awful stuff. But I try. When I’m writing,
I write. And then it’s as if the muse is convinced that I’m serious and says, ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll come.’"
~ Maya Angelou
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