I’m dipping my toes back in the pool of my imagination and I love it. I’m shyly sidling up to every avenue of inspiration my muse shows the slightest interest in.
Let me just say that up until this point I’ve hated crossword puzzles. They always made me feel dumb and I don’t particularly enjoy puzzles of any sort. However, a few people at work do the daily crossword and I’ve found myself picking up their incomplete puzzles more and more frequently until I took the plunge and got my own yesterday. And you know what? I finished it except for 3 clues within 20 minutes. I think I’m addicted now.
I’ve also spent quite a bit of time at the library recently. Lucky for me the library has put out quite a spread on books about writing books. It was as if Christmas had come early! I felt just a tiny bit guilty pulling every 3rd book off the shelf and into my quickly growing pile but then the guilt vanished when I returned the next day to return a book on screenplay writing (how’d that one get in there?) and saw that more books had taken over the vacancies. The continuity of life is evident everywhere, even in libraries.
The real inspiration for this post came from one of my library treasures. How I Write: The Secret Lives of Authors Edited by Dan Crowe is filled with insight, commiseration and validation that even the pros out there share my struggles, concerns and insecurities. One of the letters that illustrated fallacy in my approach to my writing is Geoff Dyer’s Through my Window. He talks about finding the perfect place to write and setting the stage for the ideal tableau for the creative process. I’ve never thought of it before but I’ve fallen victim to the picturesque idea of a writer in a coffee shop, sitting in her home with the teapot and fuzzy robe or out in the park with the dog entertaining itself in the grass.
I’ve made myself a participant of the setting rather than remaining on the outskirts and objective.
As artists, we’re drawn to aesthetics and the lure of immersing ourselves in a cozy scene or indulging in luxurious experiences can be dangerously seductive. We become like the children dressing up in their parents’ clothes- we play the part we hope to be some day but it’s all superficial, all for show. No wonder I’ve been so distracted and I haven’t been doing any writing. All my time and energy has been hunting for the perfect place to work.
Months ago I said the perfect place was going to be my own apartment. Well, here it is but It doesn’t seem like enough. It should be, and I want to settle down and get back into my work. Maybe my Advent Calendar will be the boost I need.
I can’t believe it’s already time for the Advent Calendar of Creativity. It really does feel like Christmas already. I get to pluck a tiny package off my wall and see which prompt I’ve ended up with. I haven’t stopped coming up with prompts, perhaps I’ll start making little presents for under the tree- non Christmas-related ideas. I like the sounds of that…