Don't Think. Just Write.

"Just write."

I was sitting in my advanced composition class, my last semester of my senior year of high school. Our teacher, Mr. Z., bore a stark resemblance in appearance and character to Mr. Forrester, which I loved. Sometimes I wondered, was it intentional? He never implied it. Years later, I think it was his best attempt at invoking a passion for writing in his students without making himself vulnerable by saying so. Mostly stoic, slightly sentimental in subtle ways, he never embellished praise over our work in the classroom, but we could see the hundreds of photos of past students he had taped to his cabinet year after year. Yet he was revered in ways that made the slackers straighten up, and made introverted writers like myself believe that even if my classmates hated my essays, his opinion was the only one that mattered.

His snow white mustache twitched in amusement as he stood before us and  repeated the phrase.

"Just write." 

I looked around the room. Every eye was fixed.

"Don't think; just write." 

The cogs collectively turned. Is he telling us that we don't have to try? That he appreciates a lack of thought? That the grades don't matter? Or better yet, he won't grade us? Please elaborate before I screw up the assignment, I begged silently.

Thankfully, he explained himself. The rest of his speech I don't remember word for word, but that moment is forever echoing in my memory.

Except for weeks like this when I'm caught up in a frenzy of checking my blog stats and reading from writers that are way better than myself and drafting post after disappointing post that quickly coagulate into rotten, useless garbage as soon as I have written them. It all stinks. 

I've read several posts this week that have given me pause for writer's reflection: What am I doing here and why? The posts I read, while convicting, while true, while inspiring, exposed my deeply rooted insecurities, making me even less sure that I wanted to answer the question. I don't want to admit that I'm doing it wrong.

With the world at our finger tips online, it's too easy to get caught up in being creative for the purpose of gaining readership and reaction - affirmation - especially through blogging. So much so that I rarely write just to write, but more often write about writing to gain readership and response from other writers.

When the blog stats tick up and then down and then dwindle there in that sickening flat line, I wonder where the vitality in my writing was lost. And then my insecurity spins wildly out of control and I question who I am and why and how I'm trying to do this thing called writing.

There, I admitted it. Step one is done.

Step two: How do I get myself out of this mess?

I tried to write it out all week long, battling against the part of me that says, if you blog about this, aren't you bringing yourself back into the cycle of writing to be read? Nothing I wrote felt real to me when I went back and read it.

Looking through my arsenal of half-written posts that have never been published, I found the beginning of this draft that I abandoned a couple of months ago, with only his words,

"Just write."

And I am that seventeen-year-old girl again, standing in front of my peers, essay in shaking hand, worried that what I've written and am about to share is completely worthless. And somehow, six years later, he's still reminding me, quietly, in few words but in many, many ways, it's not. With a steadying breath and his words reverberating in my mind, I tell myself,

Don't think. Just write. 

P.S. I'll love-link to those helpful posts I mentioned tomorrow.

[Image: Insecurity Photographed. Otherwise known as: A screenshot of what my desktop looks like when I'm dissatisfied with my writing, so I begin yet another untitled draft.]

[Image within the Image: desktop wallpaper found here.]

Must I Write?

"Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: 

must I write?  

Dig into yourself for a deep answer.  

And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple 'I must,' then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to Nature. Then, as if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose." – Rainer Maria Rilke

This is the voice that keeps speaking to me, whether I am busy and distracted, quiet and contemplative, alone or surrounded, coming or going, sleeping or waking. That's how I know. That's why I'm still trying, even when another voice in me tells me to quit.

What is it that motivates you? Don't settle for anything less.

[Image found here.]

Less is More.

The less I watch T.V., the more I read, write, think, create

and do. 

The less takeout I eat, the more I enjoy cooking, eating and

being healthy. 

The less I spend, the more I save. Time, energy, worry, money

and future. 

The less negative tweets and statuses I read or write,

the more positive engagement I consume and share. 

The less I sleep in, the more I get done in a given day. 

The less I dwell and fret, the more grateful and motivated I feel. 

The less I freak, the more I pray. 

The less I scurry, the more I achieve. 

The less I schedule, the more present I am. 

The less I argue, the more I understand. 

The less of me, the more of You. 

I'm just trying to make space. 

Midnight in Paris.

As promised, hubby and I went on a much-needed dinner date Friday night, and went to see Midnight in Paris. Since its rave reviews at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival in May, I've been dying to see it. I'm a new fan of Woody Allen's work since falling in love with his classic Annie Hall a few months ago, so I have been trying to explore his filmography more. Sadly, his last film, You Will Meet a Tall, Dark Stranger, was only mildly amusing in my estimation.

His newest film, though, is brilliant. Midnight in Paris is the story of a dissatisfied but successful screenwriter, Gil (Owen Wilson) who aspires to write his first novel and break away from the manufactured and blockbuster-driven film industry. His fiance, Inez (Rachel McAdams), is less than enthusiastic about the shift in his creative priorities. While vacationing in Paris with Inez's parents, they run into Inez's friend Paul (Michael Sheen), a "pseudo-intellectual" that is an "expert" on everything from French sculptures to literature to architecture and wine. Inez is eager to tour Paris with Paul and his wife Carol, but Gil is visibly and annoyed and sometimes threatened by Paul's arrogant and often argumentative pseudo-intellectualism.

Set against a back-drop of the ever romantic and sentimentally-filmed Paris, the conflicts between Gil and Inez, Gil and Paul, and Gil and Inez's parents highlight the inner conflict that Gil has with his writing. Gil, however serious he is about completing his novel, is unsure if he has what it takes to be a legitimate writer. Surrounded by people who question the same thing, Gil pines for a golden era, like Paris in the 1920's, when Earnest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso, T.S. Eliot and others graced the city with their creative geniuses.

As he wanders Paris alone after midnight, Gil encounters in surprising and mysteriously tangible ways his belief that if he had born in that golden era, he would be the writer he longs to be.

Aside from being utterly surprised by the unfolding plot, I appreciated that once again Allen's work addresses the heart of creative and artistic struggle, mocks it and at the same time consoles it. It's a natural and naive inclination for all artists to believe that the golden ages of creativity have passed and along with them the "greats" who understood and created art in its truest forms, and that we are now left to mimic and recreate their work; nothing is original anymore. We allow our loss of faith in our generation to influence and taint our own work. We ask, how can we be sure that our work is genuine, meaningful, authentic, moving, timeless?

It has left me wondering, what era do I pine for creatively? What author or artist do I wish I could have met and what would I ask them, given the opportunity? And, how did artists before us feel about their contemporaries and the world they lived in? What era did they pine for and attempt to recreate?

What about you, dear readers? Is there an era, time or place that you wish you lived in, or that influences your work? If you could meet your favorite author or artist, who would it be and what would you ask them?

Working for the Weekend...

It's Friday, my friends. I have a lot on my plate this weekend, but I'm happy to be home (for once!) and working and I plan to embrace productivity in all it's exhaustive glory so long as I actually accomplish it all. I know, I know. I can do anything, but not everything.

For now, I'm struck by this thought that Shauna shared on her blog the other day,

"I choose to believe that inspiration is my responsibility—I create it in the life I lead…  

It's my responsibility to live a life that sustains me creatively, so that when it’s "go-time" and I’m staring at a blank screen, I’ve got something to say. The work of inspiration doesn't happen when you sit down to write—it happens all the rest of time, when you're reading great writing, when you're taking walks or taking naps or taking pictures on your phone at the farmer's market. Pay attention to what inspires you creatively, and work that into your life with the same urgency and intention that you plan writing time." 

I, like many many artists and creative people before me, struggle with effective inspiration-gathering. What is inspiration and what is wasted time? How do we live life and make time to write about it? How do I write about life if I'm not living it?

This weekend I know I have to dedicate myself to work and life - producing the articles and write-ups and quotes I've committed to, paying my bills, cleaning up around the house, scheduling my car repairs, going grocery shopping. It's not glamorous and it's not always fun, but I can't avoid life if I'm going to write about it.

As for inspiration, I plan to make time for that promising 70 degrees and sunny Sunday headed our way and throw a cook-out with my favorite people. Good food and good company are a recipe for the best kind of writing, truly. And for tonight, I'm going on a date with my hubby. We plan to see Midnight in Paris and eat dinner together (a rarity for us right now, unfortunately.)

What will you do with your weekend? I hope it's a good one.

[Image: Source: re-nest.com via Bethany on Pinterest]