“When you start working, everybody is in your studio—the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all, your own ideas—all are there. But as you continue painting, they start leaving, one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you’re lucky, even you leave.” —John Cage
My husband recently downloaded a tape recording we found once, in the basement of my father's house. It was labelled "Kids 1978." Beyond that, I had no idea what was on it.
On the tape was first the voice of my father (recently gone), in a semi-serious voice, as if he were in an office: "Testing-one-two-three." Then an awkward pause, lots of shuffling sounds, followed by the voice of my grandmother (long gone), in her soft West Texas accent, clearly speaking directly against the microphone: "This is a tape recorder, girls. You talk nice," she adds, and I heard her chuckling as she and my father seem to walk off.
Then my sister (still here, fortunately), announcing her name, address, age, and that she likes cats.
A pause.
Me, screaming: half of my name, claiming to 350 years old, and announcing, "I am... a POET!"
A longer silence.
And finally the evidence: "I am a horse;" I begin. A pause. "Horse-Dorse!" I proclaim.
"Ohhhh," my sister whispers.
"I know," I whisper back. "THAT's what poetry is!"
I resume yelling into that tape recorder with more "genius."
I think Freakification should be on a T shirt :) I can relate. Whenever I'm not writing, it's usually because I'm thinking it should be good, it should be serious, it should be beautiful- should, should, should. Should is a dreadful word to stamp on our writing. When we think of what we should do, it's usually pretty joyless stuff (go to work, go the dentist...) Why are we then surprised if we put off writing? It's like the difference between books we really want to read and the ones we feel we should read (which ones do we gobble up, which stay on the bottom of the pile?..)
I keep thinking one post is my favorite until the next one comes along. Such a great thing to read today, just dink around and see what happens, like improv.
When I was a kid, I wrote a series of little plays with my family as characters. Everyone (even the dog and cat) had lines that demonstrated their quirks, except me—I came off as the sane and reasonable one. When I performed these playlets for my mother (I had to play all the parts myself, as no one else would co-operate), she laughed so hard she cried, and I think my desire to become a writer was probably formed then. Now that I’m a supposedly mature grownup, it is sometimes a challenge to keep that playful feeling when writing, but I do try. If I’m not having fun, if I feel like I’m forcing things, I stop. My best (weirdest, most idiosyncratic) work was invariably the most fun to write, and not coincidentally, the easiest to get published.
I have to celebrate understanding a story "as a series of relatively simple actions" as a way to handle the "anxiety and pre-worrying we all tend to do." [Quoting George of course.] This morning with a new story I love I decided to try it: going backwards, from the ending, and flagging (with comments) each action. Brilliantly helpful in building the story, soothing "the hornet's nest that is the artist's mind" [GS again.} Some "simple actions" are just a few words; others are a half page of dialogue.
On Tuesday, my sister sent me four hours worth of home movies that I had never seen before. I watched them back to back and found myself cropped out of every shot, the camera moving subtly away from my four-year-old self doing jumping jacks on the front lawn, the voice of the woman behind the camera suggesting that I go play somewhere else, again and again over eight years of footage. Since Tuesday, I've stumbled into several adjacent areas such sending mean haiku to my therapist. I imagine this is refilling my well with something.
This is so very interesting because it also relates to science. My husband invented a new antibiotic that went on the market last year but it was decades in the making. He looks at molecules the same way you look at writing!
Well this comment is going to get lost at the bottom of this thread but I’m posting it anyway. Because I want to talk about this idea of fun. I keep harping here about this one story I wrote recently. In these threads, George said to me something along the lines of “ fun, right?” regarding the fact that I’d finally written something after several years in the desert. I read his comment and thought, is that sarcasm? Because no, fun is not a word I would use to describe the process of writing that story. I don’t find writing fun. I find it intense. I get so very focused. I get completely lost in the moment. I disappear in the way of the John Cage quote I posted. The story I wrote was ultimately triumphant for the character but her journey was full of sadness. I think most of what I write is about those kinds of feelings. Alienation. Aloneness. Trapped. Of course there is hope,too. But overall I am not having fun with the writing of these characters. I am heartbroken for them. Sure there is enjoyment getting a story on the page. It feels good. But not fun. Just…satisfying? So. Anyone reading this: do you feel the same? I want to say that sometimes I have fun with my writing. But mostly, no. (Maybe I should try the fun thing?)
Song-writing and poetry, I've been schooled by a composer pal, are not the same. I've not taken the time to hammer out how he explained the difference (because it's incomprehensible when you can't read music). Yet, there's something lovely about taking a story we've already written and write both a poem and a song that represent what we put into literary form.
You're right about the sheer pleasure of song, but it's also a terrific exercise in finding the emotional strings in our stories and crooning them out.
Oh, and not being able to read music doesn't really stop writing a song.
I wrote a song for my novel Snarl, because of your challenge (be kind, or blunt, or ... )
Fan-bloody-tastic post George! Off now to take in my sandwhich board signs advertising Billy The Bard, who will not be appearing tonight at the lake Tekapo Solar Circle, it's blowing a gale in the mountains of N.Z.
Billy is my alter ego who goes out and storytells fireside in an outdoor theatre- in -the -round. Pure fun and often improvised song, poetry, myth and legend under the stars as they come out to play. So refreshing to have this as my particular alter-native for when real writing needs a spell. check him out here, and if any one of you fine yaselves in this part of our world, come and enjoy the hilarity! Love!
Hey ya'll. It's not obvious (or it wasn't to me, anyway), but if you press the links in George's essay that LOOK like they lead to the books "In Persuasion Nation" and "Pastoralia,"
you'll find that they actually link to his wild and crazy music. Be sure you listen to Persuasion Nation all the way to the very, very end....) (The Brief and Frightening..." has a link as well--but it's more obviously a link, called "this piece.")
George, I loved listening to these. I could feel you having so much fun making them. I could tell you felt no pressure--you just went for it.
What a nice way to put it, George. I love the idea of returning to the 'beginner-mind feeling' from time to time - a life of learning is (definitely) a life of happiness.
Very interesting that the notion of 'filling the well' is attributed to Hemingway. I wrote exactly about that concept very recently (https://thesketchclub.substack.com/p/-filling-our-creative-well). Found and read about this notion of the well in Julia Cameron's 'The Artist's Way'.
“When you start working, everybody is in your studio—the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all, your own ideas—all are there. But as you continue painting, they start leaving, one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you’re lucky, even you leave.” —John Cage
My husband recently downloaded a tape recording we found once, in the basement of my father's house. It was labelled "Kids 1978." Beyond that, I had no idea what was on it.
On the tape was first the voice of my father (recently gone), in a semi-serious voice, as if he were in an office: "Testing-one-two-three." Then an awkward pause, lots of shuffling sounds, followed by the voice of my grandmother (long gone), in her soft West Texas accent, clearly speaking directly against the microphone: "This is a tape recorder, girls. You talk nice," she adds, and I heard her chuckling as she and my father seem to walk off.
Then my sister (still here, fortunately), announcing her name, address, age, and that she likes cats.
A pause.
Me, screaming: half of my name, claiming to 350 years old, and announcing, "I am... a POET!"
A longer silence.
And finally the evidence: "I am a horse;" I begin. A pause. "Horse-Dorse!" I proclaim.
"Ohhhh," my sister whispers.
"I know," I whisper back. "THAT's what poetry is!"
I resume yelling into that tape recorder with more "genius."
May we all horse-dorse as often as we can.
I think Freakification should be on a T shirt :) I can relate. Whenever I'm not writing, it's usually because I'm thinking it should be good, it should be serious, it should be beautiful- should, should, should. Should is a dreadful word to stamp on our writing. When we think of what we should do, it's usually pretty joyless stuff (go to work, go the dentist...) Why are we then surprised if we put off writing? It's like the difference between books we really want to read and the ones we feel we should read (which ones do we gobble up, which stay on the bottom of the pile?..)
I keep thinking one post is my favorite until the next one comes along. Such a great thing to read today, just dink around and see what happens, like improv.
I so look forward to these notes! They're a mind stretcher in a most relaxing way. Thank you
When I was a kid, I wrote a series of little plays with my family as characters. Everyone (even the dog and cat) had lines that demonstrated their quirks, except me—I came off as the sane and reasonable one. When I performed these playlets for my mother (I had to play all the parts myself, as no one else would co-operate), she laughed so hard she cried, and I think my desire to become a writer was probably formed then. Now that I’m a supposedly mature grownup, it is sometimes a challenge to keep that playful feeling when writing, but I do try. If I’m not having fun, if I feel like I’m forcing things, I stop. My best (weirdest, most idiosyncratic) work was invariably the most fun to write, and not coincidentally, the easiest to get published.
I have to celebrate understanding a story "as a series of relatively simple actions" as a way to handle the "anxiety and pre-worrying we all tend to do." [Quoting George of course.] This morning with a new story I love I decided to try it: going backwards, from the ending, and flagging (with comments) each action. Brilliantly helpful in building the story, soothing "the hornet's nest that is the artist's mind" [GS again.} Some "simple actions" are just a few words; others are a half page of dialogue.
On Tuesday, my sister sent me four hours worth of home movies that I had never seen before. I watched them back to back and found myself cropped out of every shot, the camera moving subtly away from my four-year-old self doing jumping jacks on the front lawn, the voice of the woman behind the camera suggesting that I go play somewhere else, again and again over eight years of footage. Since Tuesday, I've stumbled into several adjacent areas such sending mean haiku to my therapist. I imagine this is refilling my well with something.
This is so very interesting because it also relates to science. My husband invented a new antibiotic that went on the market last year but it was decades in the making. He looks at molecules the same way you look at writing!
Well this comment is going to get lost at the bottom of this thread but I’m posting it anyway. Because I want to talk about this idea of fun. I keep harping here about this one story I wrote recently. In these threads, George said to me something along the lines of “ fun, right?” regarding the fact that I’d finally written something after several years in the desert. I read his comment and thought, is that sarcasm? Because no, fun is not a word I would use to describe the process of writing that story. I don’t find writing fun. I find it intense. I get so very focused. I get completely lost in the moment. I disappear in the way of the John Cage quote I posted. The story I wrote was ultimately triumphant for the character but her journey was full of sadness. I think most of what I write is about those kinds of feelings. Alienation. Aloneness. Trapped. Of course there is hope,too. But overall I am not having fun with the writing of these characters. I am heartbroken for them. Sure there is enjoyment getting a story on the page. It feels good. But not fun. Just…satisfying? So. Anyone reading this: do you feel the same? I want to say that sometimes I have fun with my writing. But mostly, no. (Maybe I should try the fun thing?)
Song-writing and poetry, I've been schooled by a composer pal, are not the same. I've not taken the time to hammer out how he explained the difference (because it's incomprehensible when you can't read music). Yet, there's something lovely about taking a story we've already written and write both a poem and a song that represent what we put into literary form.
You're right about the sheer pleasure of song, but it's also a terrific exercise in finding the emotional strings in our stories and crooning them out.
Oh, and not being able to read music doesn't really stop writing a song.
I wrote a song for my novel Snarl, because of your challenge (be kind, or blunt, or ... )
I walk most places
run bit, and study where I live
A lion's life ain't hard
but it's harder than you think
Ambling through the trees
my paws don't hurt at all
The sky can't see me, 'neath the leaves
I'm careful, wary, worried some
though they're all afraid of me
I walk most places
run bit, and study where I live
A lion's life ain't hard
but it's harder than you think
Ahead I notice deer twitch
They're looking out for me
I stop and make them nervous
They sniff, and search, and shiver
wondering where I might be
I walk most places
run bit, and study where I live
A lion's life ain't hard
but it's harder than you think
Chewing on a carcass now
my teeth work hard, it's tough
This deer I caught is good
but won't last long enough
I'll nap awhile, scratch my neck
And do it all again
I walk most places
run bit, and study where I live
A lion's life ain't hard
but it's harder than you think
dang harder than you think
this is all fantastic to hear!
"166 narrators, including me, my wife, our kids, my parents, friends from all periods of my life..." !!!
incredible!
"the Fun makes a shape we can then work to clarify."
beautiful!
thank you for sharing, as always!
Fan-bloody-tastic post George! Off now to take in my sandwhich board signs advertising Billy The Bard, who will not be appearing tonight at the lake Tekapo Solar Circle, it's blowing a gale in the mountains of N.Z.
Billy is my alter ego who goes out and storytells fireside in an outdoor theatre- in -the -round. Pure fun and often improvised song, poetry, myth and legend under the stars as they come out to play. So refreshing to have this as my particular alter-native for when real writing needs a spell. check him out here, and if any one of you fine yaselves in this part of our world, come and enjoy the hilarity! Love!
https://www.facebook.com/Staryteller
Hey ya'll. It's not obvious (or it wasn't to me, anyway), but if you press the links in George's essay that LOOK like they lead to the books "In Persuasion Nation" and "Pastoralia,"
you'll find that they actually link to his wild and crazy music. Be sure you listen to Persuasion Nation all the way to the very, very end....) (The Brief and Frightening..." has a link as well--but it's more obviously a link, called "this piece.")
George, I loved listening to these. I could feel you having so much fun making them. I could tell you felt no pressure--you just went for it.
What a nice way to put it, George. I love the idea of returning to the 'beginner-mind feeling' from time to time - a life of learning is (definitely) a life of happiness.
Very interesting that the notion of 'filling the well' is attributed to Hemingway. I wrote exactly about that concept very recently (https://thesketchclub.substack.com/p/-filling-our-creative-well). Found and read about this notion of the well in Julia Cameron's 'The Artist's Way'.
WELL..I like this!^^