Writing Gifts
This Writing Thing
A movement outside the window draws my eye. Sitting up, paws in, looking at me, was a most unusual rodent with a long thin tail. My heart jumped. “Rat!” I thought, then looked more carefully. The tail was not bald; the face was not pointy. This was a squirrel without a furry tail.
This small sighting could prove to be a great gift. I can poke it, prod it (the idea, not the squirrel, Silly), explore it, interview it, anthropomorphize it, exaggerate it, transform it, generalize it, highlight it or apply any number of other thought devices to it. I can use it however I want. It waits in my memory (and my writer’s journal) to be pulled out at just the right moment.
That is my job as a writer, to take the raw material around me (or inside me) and transform it into a story. Raw material comes in small bits which surround us every day, little writing gifts from the world to our art, should comes as a great relief. It means we do not have to struggle for the big revelations in order to get started or keep going. These gifts are not merely decorative, they are our starter engines and our back-up fuel. It is possible they could be at times the rocket itself. And they are everywhere. Notice them, remember them, and use them.
“But how?” you ask.
Noticing:
Cultivate a curious mind and alert senses. Set aside time to notice. For a few minutes each day, in familiar places and strange, effortlessly observe. You will notice what you notice. Take the gifts and be grateful. Do not worry at this point how to use them. And do not forget your internal self is a good place to look around. Thoughts, sensations, emotions, memories… these are gifts as well.
Remembering:
When something strikes you, save it. Jot a note in a little journal. Snap a picture. Draw a little sketch. Talk into a voice recorder. Tell someone else, quick, before you forget. Telling is a great memory device. For gifts on paper, I keep a “magic box” under my desk; for gifts captured digitally, I have a “magic folder” in my Documents. When my writing runs dry, I flip through my magic boxes. I do not find it necessary to index these little gifts. That is both too much work and also presumes that I can guess now how I will use a gift for in the future. On other hand, consistently put them in some kind of container so they are not lost or cluttering up your physical or virtual space.
Using:
A movement outside the window draws my eye. It is a most unusual rodent…