sericulture (silk worm breeding) is annoying me today, not for the reason one might suspect (immersion in boiling water of live pupa inside the cocoons), but because I was almost done with the thing, the rough draft thing. I was just adding a smidge of detail pertaining to Japanese bobtail cats ( and a few other notes and details), and now I find I am off traversing the internet, and books, searching for more information on silk and silk worms. I am considering adding it to the story, and shifting things a bit, it certainly could add another layer, but I don't have to add on each thing that presents itself as an option, and it will take more time and more frustration as I can and can not find all the information I would need to get it right, plus while it is the potential symbolism, and metaphors, that are attracting me, they would also add some problems, they would have to flow with the others that are already in the story, and would have to not just be stuck on in one single location but woven through. And I am annoyed because even if I decide it wont work and not to use it, I still can't resist an open gate, beckoning me to explore new territory, I have to walk through and spend time gathering all the information, walking each corner, and thinking it over, before I can decide to include it or not. I can see the finish line (the first of many, a journey of stages this writing business/busy-ness) but keep having to go down other corridors in an ever winding maze, that shows a shorts bit of distance between me and my goal, yet insists on taking me day after day, in directions that seem opposite of the one titled The End.
I don't want to deal with it, I don't want to think of it, I've already scrubbed toilets, washed the shower curtain, put linens in the washer, in procrastination, in avoidance, yet my mind is, filaments of silk, cocoons being spun, life boiled, cocoons open becoming silk threads, threads becoming silk, silk becoming garments, composted dead worms feeding mulberry bushes, mulberry leaves feeding worms. The second story of an old country house once filled with worms. On the first floor in the corner a loom, standing unused, archetecture of empty space. The history of a place, a space in time, and now. A house abandoned again and again over time. The thatched roof, material and forms of earth. Being added to and changed as people consider pulling it along with them into a future way of existence with them, but never finding the right fit. Standing half earth, half modern house, but never yet a home. Having been too lived in, and changed, to simply go back into the earth wanting, longing to be something more, to shelter and be sheltered.
I am trying to do other things, but the information I know keeps coming back to me. I tell it again and again that I do not know if I shall use it. Perhaps it doesn't belong here. It refuses to be pushed aside, looming in the air before me as a question, that perpetually whispers...find out...find out....find out....
5 comments:
Had you even thought, perhaps the silkworms are offering you a whole new story?
This is what I love about researching, and hate about editing. There is always something new, some new path to follow. Of course, the discipline comes in knowing what to put in, what to leave out, and what to note for future stories!
It's all rather exciting, really! ;-)
Vanilla,
Ahh positve energy, a good thing. Thanks.
Personally, I don't know what to leave in, and/or to pull out (hopefully that skill will come over time, hopefully a shorter period then decades).
No, I hadn't thought about the possibility of the silk worms wanting to spin a story around themselves. But of course now that you have mentioned it, I will have to consider it, but I don't mind saying I hope the answer is no. :) I've already got two stories on the back burner claiming neglect, and after spending the last three hours reading about silk worms, I do believe I have had enough. The moths are so pretty though.
But yes, usually that is what I love about research, how you look into something and it expands before you, offering up more ideas, textures, meanings, details. Wonderful stuff you hadn't thought of the day before, worlds unfolding.
Once again your prose has captured me...it seems to flow so beautifully the deeper you delve.
Not to add another pressure, but have you read Silk by Alessandro Baricco? A beautiful piece of prose and poetry - a lesson in how the minimal can tell such a profound story. Try it some day.
Love Amy ... back from the summer haze.
Amy,
Hi :)
Thanks for the kind words.
No I haven't, but last weekend I did rent and watch a movie by that name, Silk; it must have been based on the book. I shall see if they have it at my local library.
Not one to finish reading what I start (but rather one to sample them, taking single bites, like from a huge box of unmarked chocolates, tasting and testing different centers), I have left partially read books scattered about the house, and have moved on, now reading The hours, and Mrs. Dalloway, having watched the movie ( The hours) recently, and having been shocked that I liked it. I expected it to be dreary, and indeed things happened that when I think of them surely seem so, but somehow the words and ideas gave it lift.
Oh drat the sun is going down, and we are supposed to go for a walk. Running out of time, running out of time....(perhaps I am the white rabbit with the pocket watch, ever scurrying about)
The movie is based on the book, I haven't seen it, but everyone I know who has, who were also taken by the book, said it was visually beautiful but lacked all the strength of the book.
I enjoyed the movie the Hours but didn't read the book. The white rabbit is here, I must get ready for my Stories in the Park!
Hugs, Amy
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