I was listening the other day to an audio book about the writing process. It was written by an accomplished writer. She described her struggles with finding the intensity she expected of herself while writing this scene in story or another, her demand of herself for a certain state of mind.
It made me think about how I approach the writing process and my relationship with the story I’m writing. How do I approach it? I think I am a bit simple. I come to each session of writing without expectations. I have a set period of time to write, and I just do the work like a craftsman creating a rug or a clock. Sober, disillusioned, calm. It is indeed a craft. I have no romantic notions about myself as a writer or about my writing. I just do it, on regular basis like someone walking a forest path – sometimes I see a hare, at other there is bird chuckling on a tree.
When I’m about to finish the writing time each day, I leave myself breadcrumbs so I would know where to come back to. I try not to demand of my self great feats. I come to the water hole with humility and patience. Acceptance and gratitude for the gifts I’m given each time, these delicate flights of the imagination, or a tender moment of realization condensed into an image or a sentence.
I love those moments when I’m for a moment immersed in the sounds and sights of those distant imaginary places, these relationships that unfold on the page. It is a miracle. These moments give me a simple bright sense of freedom and joy, a gush of love flows through me filling me for a few fleeting moments with colorful pleasure.
And then when the clock rings that time is up I get up and return to the world – cooking a meal, working, listening to my mother’s complaints or hearing from a colleague that missiles have landed north of here.