And the Waters Be Deep

I have always enjoyed the term brainstorming. It's appropriate to the way my mind (or at least the creative part of my mind) works. If I have time, if I'm content and happy and totally determined to write, it's usually a sure sign that I will be unable to pen a single decent sentence. For me, writing comes out of these furious and rushed and often distressing moments of mental fervor, times when my head is full, swirling, and mad. My best writing, the best of prose and poetry, always seems to come out at 2:00 a.m. in a frantic rush for paper, or days when my mind seethes and pulses with so many mixed sentiments and memories that I can do nothing but try to get it all down (in one of my many notebooks in some variety of brightly colored ink, as is my wont) before it escapes me entirely.

I have worried about this for years, actually. I would sincerely love to believe that I imagine this, but once the sky of my emotions clears, my ability to put together a really good, powerful turn of phrase fades out like so many clouds. After the storm, it always seems that I lose something. And I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but I often fear that what I'm losing is my gift.

There could be something very positive and nearly Taoist about this situation, actually. A clear sky and a clear mind, this fretful lack of words. Perhaps it is that my mind loses its loquacity because it doesn't need the crutch, when it's at peace. Perhaps for me, clarity is contentment. I like that notion. It's comforting. It's nicer than feeling talentless, or worse, feeling that I have to be in some kind of strife to be an effective writer.

But I find it frustrating, so here I am trying to write, grinding out some words to get my practice in anyway.

Sidenote: My friend Elaine (a much more diligent blogger than myself and a charming wit to boot) actually sent me a video about this subject which involves my favorite poet/songwriter, Tom Waits. The woman in the Ted Talk (Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love) is actually discussing this very phenomenon of inspiration. While I envy her drive and commitment, her tenacity in putting her nose to the stone and getting her work done everyday, I must confess to being the other kind of writer she is talking about, the scattered, fit-of-passion type. Which I find troubling. I'm working on it. But I take heart from her anecdote about Tom Waits. The conclusion my mentor draws is a helpful one. Enjoy.