Life is good. That's sort of a profound statement, if you really think about it. Is life actually good? Being alive, the gift of life, certainly is good. But circumstances in life aren't always good. I think the earthquake in Haiti last week is a glaring example of how unfair and hopeless life can be. And despite the fact that (thankfully) my life has never seen anything akin to that kind of despair, there have been times when I would say that life was anything but good, at least for a certain span of time.
So I will not say that my life is good. But I will say that I am content with life, and hope that I can always remain content despite my circumstances. Being content with life does not negate the negative feelings that come with pain or loss or injustice, however. It doesn't mean that I won't struggle to remain content in the hard times.
Now, how does this relate to my writing?
Well...I have discovered that when I am at ease with life, when my life is free from conflict, I write less.
A few months ago, circumstances were such that I was dealing with a lot of hurt and confusion. And I wrote. Boy, did I write! I couldn't go a day without it. I wrote about what I was going through, but I also wrote creatively a lot, too. Thankfully, my writing class also started shortly after the initial onset of this sudden outpouring of ink, so I had a place to channel some of the ideas that were swirling around in my head. Over time, as the raw emotion of the situation dissipated, so did my writing. Having classes and a project I'm working on has kept me writing fairly consistently, but my daily cathartic or creative writing unrelated to anything specific has become nearly nonexistent. And it makes me a bit sad. Is conflict my muse?
I highly doubt it. But I'm beginning to think that when I let my guard down and really feel whatever emotion it is that I'm feeling, I'm more able to just let go and write. When I'm more comfortable with life, I still feel emotions, but apparently not the kind that compel me to sit down and write. And they aren't the kind that more or less overshadow everything else. So it would seem that when my emotions are in a valley, my writing is on a mountain top, and vice versa.
I can look back and see how this has always been true in my life. I'm good at taking a sad song and making it better (thanks, J. Lennon). I just never really saw the pattern. Now that I have some awareness of this fact, though, I need to decide what to do with it. Clearly, I can't wait for the next conflict or season of discomfort in my life to write. Writing can help me get through those things still, of course, but if I'm serious about writing, I need to figure out a way to motivate myself to write, even when I don't want to. Maybe making myself a daily writing journal would be helpful. Maybe if I set realistic weekly goals for my writing. Maybe I need some sort of accountability partner. What I know for sure is that I need to actually make a decision about a way to improve in this area. Maybes and shoulds and plans that aren't really plans just aren't going to cut it.
If you have any suggestions, let me know. Otherwise, I'm giving myself until Friday to come up with a more definitive plan, which I will post on here. There...one goal set, and a little bit of accountability to boot. I'm off to a good start!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Adventures in Reading: "The Magicians" by Lev Grossman
I think that I initially saw this book on Borders.com. The whole "Harry Potter goes to college" idea stuck out to me, and I decided I would put it on hold at the library. After reading several reader reviews (also on Borders.com), I became a little nervous. Most people seemed to land somewhere between being bored with the book to seriously disliking it. Being a bit of a literary snob, I figured that these readers were probably below my level of awesomeness, and that I would enjoy the book despite their lack of understanding.
I love being right!
The main complaint of the negative reviews that I have read about "The Magicians" is that its depressing. That certainly can't be denied. Essentially, the "The Magicians" is the story about getting everything you ever thought you wanted, and realizing that it's not enough. Quentin loves his childhood books about the magical land of Fillory and the Chatwin siblings who get to have adventures there. And then one day...Quentin finds out that not only is he a magician, but has been admited to a special college of magic (sort of my dream come true, right there!). But even Brakebills College becomes mundane, and Quentin and his compatriots continue their search for meaning after they graduate. Through a series of events, it is discovered that not only is Fillory real, but Quentin and company can actually get there. Unfortunately, our dreams don't always turn out the way we think they will.
Grossman creates his magical world without a lot of the whimsy associated with magic in other fantasy novels. His concept for the entire novel seems to be very much grounded in what's "real"...the dirty, unpleasant, disturbing parts of life and magic. I think this is a big part of what some of the reviewers didn't like. They wanted to whimsy. They wanted the magic to make things lighthearted, even when circumstances in the book were serious and heavy. But Grossman sticks with his assertion that nothing is easy and nothing comes free.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in an edgier, darker take on the fantasy coming-of-age genre (a la Harry Potter). It's a long read. It's course and sad and complicated. But its refusal to conform to its contemporaries is also refreshing.
While he did tie up all of the proverbial loose ends by the end of the book, Grossman left the ending wide open for a sequal, which might just turn out to be his version of a happy ending. We'll have to wait and see.
I love being right!
The main complaint of the negative reviews that I have read about "The Magicians" is that its depressing. That certainly can't be denied. Essentially, the "The Magicians" is the story about getting everything you ever thought you wanted, and realizing that it's not enough. Quentin loves his childhood books about the magical land of Fillory and the Chatwin siblings who get to have adventures there. And then one day...Quentin finds out that not only is he a magician, but has been admited to a special college of magic (sort of my dream come true, right there!). But even Brakebills College becomes mundane, and Quentin and his compatriots continue their search for meaning after they graduate. Through a series of events, it is discovered that not only is Fillory real, but Quentin and company can actually get there. Unfortunately, our dreams don't always turn out the way we think they will.
Grossman creates his magical world without a lot of the whimsy associated with magic in other fantasy novels. His concept for the entire novel seems to be very much grounded in what's "real"...the dirty, unpleasant, disturbing parts of life and magic. I think this is a big part of what some of the reviewers didn't like. They wanted to whimsy. They wanted the magic to make things lighthearted, even when circumstances in the book were serious and heavy. But Grossman sticks with his assertion that nothing is easy and nothing comes free.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in an edgier, darker take on the fantasy coming-of-age genre (a la Harry Potter). It's a long read. It's course and sad and complicated. But its refusal to conform to its contemporaries is also refreshing.
While he did tie up all of the proverbial loose ends by the end of the book, Grossman left the ending wide open for a sequal, which might just turn out to be his version of a happy ending. We'll have to wait and see.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Streeeetch
My new writing class started last night. So far, I don't like it as much as I liked the one I took last term.
The class I took last term was a good mix of experienced writers and people just starting to write. I landed somewhere in the middle, which was nice. However, since the class was very introductory, I never felt out of my league. I don't necessarily feel that way in my new class, and there are a number of people in the class who are at the same place with their writing as I am. This new class does feel like it's the next step up, and maybe that's what makes me uncomfortable. I talk about wanting to write, and I really do love doing it. But there's also something about it that scares me. Something that keeps me from staying motivated. I want this class to stretch me to a point where I can get past those feelings.
The other (major) thing that's different is that this term I don't have weekly assignments. It's just expected that I am working on a piece. The problem I've been having between the end of my last class and this one is actually sitting down to write. I was hoping this class would help to motivate me. The openness of it is going to be a challenge for me.
So, I don't feel quite as comfortable this term. But I've decided that I'm going to view this as a positive. Having my work read and critiqued by people who not only have more experience than me, but also have very different writing styles is a good thing, no matter how intimidating it might feel.
For the next couple of months, yoga will stretch me physically, and this writing class will stretch me mentally and emotionally. Hopefully I don't pull a muscle.
The class I took last term was a good mix of experienced writers and people just starting to write. I landed somewhere in the middle, which was nice. However, since the class was very introductory, I never felt out of my league. I don't necessarily feel that way in my new class, and there are a number of people in the class who are at the same place with their writing as I am. This new class does feel like it's the next step up, and maybe that's what makes me uncomfortable. I talk about wanting to write, and I really do love doing it. But there's also something about it that scares me. Something that keeps me from staying motivated. I want this class to stretch me to a point where I can get past those feelings.
The other (major) thing that's different is that this term I don't have weekly assignments. It's just expected that I am working on a piece. The problem I've been having between the end of my last class and this one is actually sitting down to write. I was hoping this class would help to motivate me. The openness of it is going to be a challenge for me.
So, I don't feel quite as comfortable this term. But I've decided that I'm going to view this as a positive. Having my work read and critiqued by people who not only have more experience than me, but also have very different writing styles is a good thing, no matter how intimidating it might feel.
For the next couple of months, yoga will stretch me physically, and this writing class will stretch me mentally and emotionally. Hopefully I don't pull a muscle.
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