Wednesday, February 7, 2007

a cool thing about writing, real, or wannabe like me

is the extra layer added to things. If I see something from one of my stories out in the world I get so excited. It can be someone in similar circumstances, that responds in a way much like my character, and then I know it is true, real, valid, the way the story goes. It can even just be stuff. The bowl of oranges, from Fresh Oranges. Finally finding fine wooden boxes, out in the real world, like the ones used in Echo. I get a thrill, a leap in my chest, everytime I see a group of birds taking flight. I see the white birds flying in the Medium (TV show) ad, something inside me goes "that's it, that's it!!" it reminds me of a scene in Echo. And it is a little nutty how happy that makes me. So it is cool, this dailogue with the universe (real or imagined), seeing things differently then yesterday, as the symbolism of my inner life develops and finds an echo in the outer world.

There was this idea that came to me for Fresh Oranges, food, recipes wanted to be involved in the story. I know there are books like this, books about Italy and France,or the south, etc, books with a certain wonderful sumptous tone. My story however is not at all like that, and that inner editor, kept saying no way, trash it, no good, you can't have it, it wont work, doesn't make sense. "Why would a book about this subject have that in it?". But, I kept on feeling drawn to the idea, even while I was bashing it, and about a year later, while doing research for Echo in library, I stumbled across a factual book about food, and recipes, and the topic involved in my story (all together), and I was excited (though the topic is somber), it was true, it was valid not some weird notion I had taken to and was trying to impose on the story. I then felt free to give it full expression, it had a proper place and meaning in the story, once I found something that said it was ok, made sense, I felt it fully and what it really meant, and what it added, and how it needed to be there, and "how could I have ever doubted it?". It wasn't silly, and frivolous, it was beautiful and meaningful (or would be if I could write it right).

I have a tendency to doubt the ideas that just float in and seem to want to be (I don't always understand them at first), but lately I am finding that since down the road, they turn out to be true and important, and add so much to the stories, that I am trying to be less critical of these ideas when they first come, so that I can stop wasting my time fighting them, and spend more time developing them.

My new thing is looking for items in the outside world to put in my house that remind me of the stories. Both as visual cues to remind me of what I want to be working toward, and also as an echo of my inner stories/life, just to surround myself with them. I really like it. Oh I'm not spending much (mostly because I can't afford it, anyway), hard to find things just right, just sort of bringing in some ideas, and being open to seeing, and finding things. Two pink peonies that are in a story and represent a character. Cherry blossom wreaths for the front door (so beautiful, delicate, so quickly gone life). I am on the look out for white rabbits, and lucky cats. I started doing this, this fall, when I l found boxes to decorate (can't afford the kind in book), to try and create the ones in Echo. My Husband was upset about this, said I was procrastinating doing the actual writing, I can't really deny that, but I love having them, I have two. I went through my old magazines in storage in basement to find pictures (mostly Victoria magazine), I found one with two statues, looking greenish blue, and put them on the little box. Two weeks later while working on the bigger box, I found this statue again bigger, and with notation, and was happy to discover that it was characters from The Secret Garden. Which made it perfect, exactly right that it should be on the little box, as the story without initial intention to do so, pays a certain homage to The Secret Garden. I like that, the serendipity of writing. Coincidences collide, hope resides. In this I find gifts. I find them regardless of whether the writing is ultimately any good, the gift is in the process, in the moment. Finding things that have extra meaning to me. The dialogue real or imagined between my inner world and the universe (world around me). a Connectedness.

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