And The Mind's Completely Different From The Brain
I’ve written here a few times about struggling to get the writing done. One might even call me a bit of a bore—I’ve struggled to find the right place to write, the right book about writing, finding the time to write, and struggled to write about struggling. What it really came down to: I was having trouble getting any kind of momentum going. Every time I sat to work I would fizzle out and stop. My mind was a box of damp matches that would light erratically, briefly, before smoking.
That changed a few weeks ago. It was magic, of course, but I cannot stress this enough: it was a very very dull kind of magic. The season just passed. One evening I was staring at a dark ceiling, snuggled in bed with my five-year-old’s, waiting for them to sleep, and I had a stray thought about my WIP. Yes, I thought, that’s exactly right. And then when I sat down, I wrote it.
This went on for several weeks, sitting down and writing the new idea. I outlined the novel with the new information and it slid into place. I could see the trouble areas I’d still have to figure out. I could also see that I’d have to find decent places to write, and section off time (raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by the flu this year). In short, it wasn’t going to be easy. But I had the spark, and the flame was going.
I’d love to report that the secret was tangible. That I did indeed manufacture a flawless playlist/tea/desk/candle situation that made the writing flow and fixed everything. Oh, Amy, you sweet fool. I begged the universe for a miracle and it gave me one: evaporation. The matches simply dried out. That it took forever is merely a detail about the experience.
Over time my brain did what my brain had to do; I think it was working while I wasn’t even aware of it. I wonder if this is normal? This sense of your own subconscious working something out while you’re not paying attention.
I have no idea. I do know I’ve had great results after spending time staring out a window or sitting in a park. Going for a walk. Can that happen on a larger scale? I guess maybe! Maybe you agonize over your WIP for an entire year only to have a stray thought one day that fixes it.
Dan Reeder gets it:
Reading Lately:
American Bulk by Emily Mester – This collection of essays is so neutral it’s unnerving. It describes the author’s experience with excess, with consumerism, with fat camp and boarding school without giving an inch of moral platitude. Readable and fascinating, it’s given me lots to think about without ever telling me what to think.
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney – I’m not done with this yet, but I’m enjoying it. I think it’s weird that Sally Rooney is so controversial, to me, she’s just a plain old good writer and I like her books.
The Passion by Jeanette Winterson – This book is written like a scoop of ice cream. Almost a little too richly, like I have to read only small amounts at a time to really enjoy it. But it’s soooo good.
Also! Many thanks to the folks who recommended writing books to me – Truth is the Arrow, Mercy is the Bow is the first pick from that bunch that we’re doing! I’ve started the first few chapters, and I’m really enjoying it so far.
I hope that however this February is going, the smallest, most mundane miracles will happen for you everywhere you go, despite everything. <3