Flurrings
This post might sound a little crazy, but I'm going with my mood. I'm not high, I promise. It's a good thing no one really reads this. Hi, Mo.
I have a couple different writing moods. Sometimes I get absorbed -- not like a trance. I don't mean to sound like some supernatural muse comes over me -- I think it's detrimental to think of writing like that. It's more like I am putting puzzle pieces together, locking the cardboard curves together with satisfying clicks, and I can't stop until the puzzle is finished. At those times the words pull on me like bed tries to pull you back in when you have to get up too early, and it's warm under the covers and too chilly outside. There's a weight to it.
Aside: Look at me and my figurative language. Sorry. I'm mixing metaphors a little, which is a no-no. This is where according to Natalie Goldberg I'm supposed to tell my inner critic to shut up and just keep writing. Shut up, Bartholomew. I just made up his name.
But it's not heavy. It's more like longing. Really, whenever I feel like writing I feel physically light, like my arms could float, and my mouth is full of air. Words or phrases jump around my head and bounce off the walls of my brain -- they don't usually mean anything at all, but I love them. Jewels in the mouth, Frank McCourt said. Earlier today I was putting in a load of laundry when suddenly the phrase, "the whirlpool of the washing machine" caught me. I could see it -- white foam and swirling. If I could make my washing machine run with the lid open, I would take a picture of it, but I can't, so it's just in my head. It's the same feeling I get when I walk barefoot over the library floor, and I stop for a moment to feel the grooves in the wood underneath my toes. "Cataclysmic," "juxtaposition." "The intangible period of rusty windows." What? Yeah, I know. It doesn't matter. Words are fun -- the rhythm and sound of them, the images they carry.
I feel this way when I see a really good movie or read a really good book, or when a song or a poem makes me feel something soft. Or today, for no reason at all. If runners feel a runner's high when they run enough, this is my writer's high. It's silly but I will take it.
I have a couple different writing moods. Sometimes I get absorbed -- not like a trance. I don't mean to sound like some supernatural muse comes over me -- I think it's detrimental to think of writing like that. It's more like I am putting puzzle pieces together, locking the cardboard curves together with satisfying clicks, and I can't stop until the puzzle is finished. At those times the words pull on me like bed tries to pull you back in when you have to get up too early, and it's warm under the covers and too chilly outside. There's a weight to it.
Aside: Look at me and my figurative language. Sorry. I'm mixing metaphors a little, which is a no-no. This is where according to Natalie Goldberg I'm supposed to tell my inner critic to shut up and just keep writing. Shut up, Bartholomew. I just made up his name.
But it's not heavy. It's more like longing. Really, whenever I feel like writing I feel physically light, like my arms could float, and my mouth is full of air. Words or phrases jump around my head and bounce off the walls of my brain -- they don't usually mean anything at all, but I love them. Jewels in the mouth, Frank McCourt said. Earlier today I was putting in a load of laundry when suddenly the phrase, "the whirlpool of the washing machine" caught me. I could see it -- white foam and swirling. If I could make my washing machine run with the lid open, I would take a picture of it, but I can't, so it's just in my head. It's the same feeling I get when I walk barefoot over the library floor, and I stop for a moment to feel the grooves in the wood underneath my toes. "Cataclysmic," "juxtaposition." "The intangible period of rusty windows." What? Yeah, I know. It doesn't matter. Words are fun -- the rhythm and sound of them, the images they carry.
I feel this way when I see a really good movie or read a really good book, or when a song or a poem makes me feel something soft. Or today, for no reason at all. If runners feel a runner's high when they run enough, this is my writer's high. It's silly but I will take it.