Here’s a question I was asked by a writing friend a few months ago, that I thought was interesting: How do I hang on to the energy of my memory so that it sustains me in my writing and I create something?
I am always eager to sit down with a bright, new, shiny memory. The writing is fast and furious and under no circumstances does doubt creep in. However, this never lasts. Every single essay I’ve ever written has had to be “put to sleep” so to speak. That is, I have to walk away from it, maybe work on something else for a while, because all I see is disaster on the page. Everything I’ve ever written, including this blog post gets to a point when I think, “There is simply no way out of this. It’s done. Time to walk away.” This is usually the time when I go for a run.
I’m not a great runner, but I love it because it parallels so well with my writing habits. I can tell myself, “This is really hard, but you’ve gotten past this point before so you can do it again.” This is exactly what I tell myself when I run and when I write.
Holding on to the energy of a memory so that you end up creating something is like running along a muddy trail that winds and turns and you don’t really know where the end is. If you dig into that memory, most certainly there is going to be a lot more you dig up. Do you use it? Do you follow what you found? What if it aches too much to follow? What if you hurt yourself? What if all you do is make a mess?
It’s been my experience that it will ache to pay attention to that memory. You probably will get hurt, and you will no doubt make a mess. When I’m running on a trail unsure of where I’m going, that’s when I see things I wouldn’t have noticed before. When I’m a little lost in my essay, I find that what aches, what I’m hurt by, the mess I’ve made, all point to something that need some attention. I suppose the energy comes from taking what makes me ache and creating from that. It is not easy. Writing fills me with doubt, and the more I do it, the more I am altered by it. However, I believe I need the ache, and the pain, the mess and the doubt in order to create something. It is in these where the real energy comes from, and they don’t show up (for me anyway) until after my cute little notebook I just got at Target looks like it’s been run over by a car.
Absolutely grab that shiny memory and write down everything that delights you about it, but know that what (I think) will sustain you so that you make something is your willingness to follow that muddy trail.
(A note on these two pictures: One is from a day when I found a muddy trail, ran it for about fifteen seconds, and decided I wasn’t ready to keep going, so I turned around. The second one is from a day when I ran back and followed the trail. Both runs were exhilarating, but the second one I learned a lot more about what is I am capable of. Those trails will be there whether you go down them or not. Nobody will run them for you, and nobody will see what you see or experience what you see when you run, or walk, or sit on a bench and talk to a friend. You get to do that.)
So much great advice in here! Thank you for sharing these glimpses of how you work through the messes and puzzles you get into while writing. Writing fills me with doubt, too, and I love the idea of twisting this from negatives–I can’t possibly find solid ground–to accepting the unknown as part of the point and digging in until I find what the piece needed.