In the Notebook

“Did you write today?” a well-meaning, non-writer friend will ask me. This brings all my neuroses and self-doubt to the surface. My writing coach and mentor has learned to answer the question with,”You mean, did I type today?” Brilliant.

You see, typing and writing are two different things. Typing is sitting down to hit letters on a keyboard. Writing involves thinking. It can be done anywhere, even miles from a keyboard. Most folks are of the opinion that writers should write every day. That’s why I love this distinction. I don’t type every day. When a project I’m working on is going particularly well, I do. But otherwise, I may be doing any number of things. Like the laundry, walking the dog or re-organizing my fridge. But, I’m thinking about my writing all the time. Mulling over a phrase, searching for a word, dreaming up an ending. I’m here to say: that counts.

Also, the answer will probably come to you in the shower. Or driving. Or washing the dishes. Doing anything routine or repetitive allows the mind to stop thinking logically, or “how-to,” and start thinking creatively.

And the best way to ensure that the perfect phrase, word or ending comes to you is to stock the pond. I’m talking about “filling the well,” but that’s might be considered a cliche’ to people working in the creative arts, so I’ll use the less often heard “stocking the pond.” The idea, as explained by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way (if you’re a regular reader, you know I’m a fan,) is that writers, poets, artists, or creators in general, use images from experience to serve as a muse for their art. Creating draws on this well of images. Life experiences fill it up.

Writer Richard Ford, in his New York Times essay, advises that living life comes first. Writing second. In fact, he likes to take large chunks of time between projects to recharge his muse. This can mean anything from watching daytime television to visiting an amusement park. Personally, I prefer the latter to the former for stocking the pond. Like Ms. Cameron, I would advise doing something, rather than nothing.

So, if anyone’s counting, that’s about 350 words for today. Tomorrow, I’m going to the movies.

I was on the far side of thirty-five before I figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had stirrings and dreams, yes, but real commitment? Not until recently. And I’m forty-one. That’s why I love stories about late bloomers. Don’t tell me about child prodigies like Mozart, composing at the age of five. I would rather forget that Zadie Smith published White Teeth to critical acclaim before she was twenty-six. People like that don’t inspire me. So they had clear callings. Good for them.

Paul Ce'zanne — Apples and Oranges, 1890s

I’d rather know about the late bloomers. Those that didn’t know what they wanted from life right away. Maybe they went back to school for the first time in decades. Or maybe they toiled away at their craft without much early success. Like the French Post-Impressionist painter, Paul Ce’zanne. Though he knew he wanted to be an artist and worked at being a painter at an early age, his work didn’t attract much attention till he was in his fifties. Continue reading “Ode to Late Bloomers” →

Amy F. Quincy Author/Freelance Writer

Category

Stocking the Pond

Ode to Late Bloomers