A Gift

 "You don't start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it's good stuff, and then gradually, you get better at it. That's why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence.”

 — Octavia E. Butler

 

Isn't it odd that we are told that we have a gift to give, and I have said it and believed it? And with that, we think that perhaps some creative endeavor will be our pathway to success and livelihood. And so we begin, we work at it, and sometimes we get better. Sometimes we make a sale or get hired. Often, we fail. 

 

In come the thoughts: I'll never make it. I'm not good enough. It's too late for me. I've worked for 30 years and have nothing to show for it except a pile of crumpled pages and dashed hopes.

 

All those nitty, annoying and ridiculous thoughts we tell ourselves. 

 

Maybe the test isn't how many times we fall. It's how many times we get up. Cliche'? Yes, I know, but pertinent.

 

I use writing as a beginning point in my discussions of creativity because that's my venue. However, if I were a painter, I would probably start at that. Writing, however, is something everyone can do. It doesn't have to be creative writing or poetry, or you don't have to be a blogger or a novelist to write. Journaling is a way to take another look at an event, sad, happy, whatever. Happy event? Relish it. Sad Event? Lay it to rest. 

 

"Morning pages" (Julia Cameron's term) can clear the debris that is standing in your way of a fruitful, pleasant day. It is writing out those nitty, whining thoughts that like to circle your brain. It is putting a period at the end of a sentence.

 

You can gripe all you want on the page—remember it's for your eyes only. Just get it out. You will put a smile on the muse's face. 

 

"And what, you ask, does writing teach us? First and foremost, it reminds us that we are alive and that it is a gift and a privilege, not a right."

 — Ray Bradbury

 

 

 

 

 

 

Promoting

 “Well Crap!”

 

“The job of promoting you lies with you, nobody else.”

--Jeff Herman

 

I’m terrible at promoting, or maybe just lazy. Writing is what I do. Selling? I don’t want to do it. (Even if I’m not charging.) It’s promoting the thing you hold dear.

 

I am grateful that you guys found me and are reading this blog. Actually, I don’t know how you found me, except that a damn writing blog sounds like a good idea. Maybe somebody has my back. 

 

If you are a writer, I congratulate you for putting your feelings on the line. I commend you for being willing to say what you want, when you want, in what manner you want. Maybe nobody will read it, but you did. You got it out. It’s your expression. Promoting is exposing your baby.

 

No wonder we writers don’t want to do it. 

 

It’s introducing your baby, when my response might be, “Yea, it’s a baby all right.”

 

Gosh, I thought she was beautiful.

 

Promoting, putting your work out there, telling people about it, advertising? Steven Pressfield would say I have RESISTANCE, sometimes called procrastination, which he writes about a lot.

 

It was fascinating, though, when he was in limbo, depressed, had no direction or inclination to have one, that the one thing that got it out of his slump was to write. After sitting down at the typewriter and writing, he went to the sink and happily washed the dishes.

 

He had broken through. 

 

Natalie Goldberg was one of the first people to say that writing was a healing endeavor. Now, it’s all over the place; journal to get your feeling out. Pressfield said that first writing was crap. But it was his crap, and it burst the damn of his resistance.

 

Some people write good stuff yet don’t like the process. I always wondered about that. I’ve been watching a cooking competition show out of Australia called '"My kitchen Rules," and the judges can tell when there is love on the plate. When the cooking team of two is stressed out, or squabbling in the kitchen, the judges say it shows on the plate. (They are under a time crunch, which adds to the pressure--create a gourmet meal, and do it fast.)

 

Wouldn’t a page written with love have the same effect?

 

What about writing that is unhappily squeezed out? Wouldn’t that show as well?

 

But then maybe the page finds its audience. You know, different strokes for different folks.

 

Oh, writing’s a business? I thought it was play.