25 October 2009 - Quiet Regathering of Powers

In the backlit room,
Finger touching finger,
Posture tilts.

Moving now from a place where I was lapsing, I am still lapsing. But lapsing with much more enthusiasm. Lapsing without any dread that I might not continue. Lapsing with clarity.

I have written once in the last few days. But it was very good. It was both solid and free. It was not spontaneous chatter. I wrote a bit about my days in Vienna, back in 2002. Self-indulgent, past-attached memoirs. The grammar was sub-par. Stylistically it was superficial and smacked of middle school writer's workshop. But I had fun, and I love what I wrote. And I feel the need to write more.

It expressed something. Note the comparison with spontaneous chatter: I felt free, not because I did not have to follow any linguistic rules, but because I was free to write about what I wanted to at that moment, in the way I wanted to. No attention to greatness or grandeur or enlightened consciousness. Just what was available to write about at that moment. Sustainable, local writing.

I still want to keep a place for spontaneous chatter, stream of consciousness, whatever you might call it. But I think for the time being I need to put it out in the pasture. Give it and myself some time to figure out how to ride before saddling up again.

I fell into the weekend trap, of course, so I have lapsed yesterday and today. I feel ready and willing to write more tomorrow.

Also: sometimes I am concerned that reading too much will secretly weigh my writing with the voices of other authors. I am not concerned about that at the moment. I feel that this new way to write free also ensures that I write me. I will still be observant.

Who am I reading right now? Willa Cather. Also Alan Moore, but I don't feel any potentially infectious quality in his style.