associated in random thought

everything is serendipitous

last night, after i left the boatyard, i decided to go out in search of don miller's searching for God knows what. and so i drove over to bookpeople, the bookstore that keeps me from missing davis-kidd too much. as i was searching for a parking space, i read on the marquee: jonathan safran foer, april 27, 7:00.

my clock read 7:05. i parked and ran in, checking my bag at the door. he was reading from his new book, extremely loud and incredibly close, as well as answering the audience's questions. the place was packed with students and writers with notepads. we filled the aisles, and leaned on bookshelves in the women's issues section. i stood on a stool.

mr. foer is my age, and incredibly handsome. he's funny and gently self-deprecating. what's more, he's conversational, and encouraging. and, he is well-versed on the writing process.

joyce carol oates wrote him a letter once, he said, warning him about the need for energy when writing. at the time, he wasn't sure what she meant, as his first novel sort of came to him; he simply took dictation from a cosmic muse. but. with subsequent writing attempts, he has found it extremely hard to open the laptop every day, and find the energy to commit himself to a work that constantly challenges his sense of self-worth. he wants to write with discipline, not merely momentum.

i needed to hear that last night. as i mentioned, i have committed myself recently to the actual process of writing. i am working on a specific story with specific demands. my first day of work went well: i sat all afternoon at the green muse, and wrote feverishly. line after line came. with every indentation of a new paragraph, i knew where i was in the story, and had a vague idea of where i was headed. days two and three went similarly.

by day three, the magic had worn off. i felt a little like i had just embarked on a new diet plan. you fly out of the gate, armed with meal plans and idealism, and by day three, you are hating yourself for lack of change. you're still you. your love handles are still looking up at you. and you long for chocolate.

so here i am, day 6, with about 3000 words written, and no original momentum left over. can i keep going? am i committed enough to the vision that brought on momentum in the first place? can i still stand behind what i am trying to say?

listening to a peer--who happens to have two novels under his belt at age 27--tell his truth about the writing process is encouraging. i think that i care enough about what i'm doing to continue. progress is progress, even if only a few words come today. this is no time for idealism or perfectionism. kindness and determination are more necessary. these are the things that carry you through, restore the momentum. they are the steps that sustain the vision.

amen.

Posted by bananie at April 28, 2005 12:31 PM