The writing journey embarks. Pens ink, computers heat up, and coffee (or tea, if you prefer) brews. Our group of brave travelers into this new adventure has to create a schedule, read good books by good writers, and start cranking out creations hoisted up from the creative caves of ourselves.
When I think about that dark, creative space, currently I see cobwebs. There is something like a faucet dripping from someone not shutting off the water valve. There are gears pitched on the rocky walls, immobile– composed of dry, rusty powder and gritted, hardened rocky sand. An obscure animal from childhood imagination scurries across the dark, prism floor. I peddle after it only to plow into a Do Not Enter wall, which gives off a feeling of wanting to speak, but suddenly someone rudely interrupts. I want an idea to throw the switch. The world will look differently, if only a spark will start it. A charge is the impetus for the space to come to life.
I read something tonight that got the metal gears to grind forward, oil running through and over. If anything, I was struck with the beauty of it:
“I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see. With the naked eye I can see two million light-years to the Andromeda galaxy. Often I slop some creek water in a jar and when I get home I dump it in a white china bowl. After the silt settles I return and see tracings of minute snails on the bottom, a planarian or two winding round the rim of water, roundworms shimmying frantically, and finally, when my eyes have adjusted to these dimensions, amoebae….Do its unedited sense impressions include the fierce focus of my eyes? Shall I take it outside and show it Andromeda, and blow its little endoplasm? I stir the water with a finger, in case it’s running out of oxygen. Maybe I should get a tropical aquarium with motorized bubblers and lights, and keep this one for a pet. Yes, it would tell its fissioned descendants, the universe is two feet be five, and if you listen closely you can hear the buzzing music of the spheres.” -Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
They are turning.
Wow, this entire post--your writing in addition to the excerpt from Annie Dillard--is just beautiful in diction and imagery. I love the way you think, Celinda. I just love how Dillard closes in on something as simple as a bowl of creek water, and all the little things crawling in it. It's pretty amazing how inspiring close observation can be. When I was in Japan, we spent a lot of our days looking very closely at some things that I thought were unremarkable. One example was this tiny little fish, similar in color and shape to a fat toothpick. It wasn't until we got them under a high magnification lens that I was able to see how actually beautiful they were. Their scales were translucent, with a rainbow sheen embossed over the surface. Their bodies were nearly transparent as well, which meant that we could see a lot of the inner workings of their bodies.
ReplyDeleteIt took me a while to get to the place where I could appreciate them, though, and I was squirming around in my chair trying to force myself to study them; I also gave up after an hour or so. Am I the only one who struggles to look long at something, not having the patience to wait until its simple beauty is revealed? I love reading things where the author is pressed up against a single moment, noticing every detail, but I can’t seem to write it myself without it falling flat.
This Dillard excerpt is so intriguing. It has an incredibly scientific feeling to it, yet I'm able to picture the beauty of this scene. If I were presented with a truly straightforward, analytical report, I certainly wouldn't read it the same way or connect to it in any way. It's an interesting perspective to think that things that often seem foreign to those of us who are more creatively inclined (problems with science and math, anyone?) can be written about with as much emotion and beauty as the more comfortable subjects we tend to gravitate toward. It really makes me want to pay more attention to the biological details of living things and to appreciate why and how they work the way they do.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE this. To me this whole passage (yours and Annie's) is all about perspective. The shifting of the very large to the very small is dizzying. And here we are, somewhere in the middle, trying to find some kind of footing so that we, too, can share perspectives.
ReplyDeleteDo you really feel like you're pulling stuff out of a cave when you write? :) I mostly feel like I'm either flying or pulling teeth. Often in the same hour. Apparently there's no middle perspective on that one.
Thanks for your post! :)
I like adjectives and you use lots of them. :)
ReplyDeleteI appreciate Dillard's dialogue-style with herself, yet somehow also with the reader. She asks questions. It's like we're sitting in a room, watching her interact with her own persona. Maybe I should experiment with letting myself talk to myself in my writing and see what comes out.
She always seems to write about living things in a wild way. Makes things more exciting.
You have a sort of "poetrose" thing goin' in this post. i like it. Your description is keen; i especially liked the small animal that flitted before our minds.
ReplyDeletei didn't realize it at the time, but i agree heartily with Ashley's comment, that the Dillard clip has a "scientific" feel to it. Against (not opposed to) its precision, the clip captures the raw life force in that bowl. That's how scientists everywhere should, and maybe do, feel about their work. i'll add that this kind of perspective withers in the barren soil of naturalism.
I really like your views on your perspective on writing here. Working on projects like this is thrilling and kind of daunting at the same time, and I think you captured the feel well. I also liked the Annie Dillard quote because it was packed with so many amazing thoughts and images--both of which really enhance the writing. It's amazing to see what you can do by putting so many beautiful thoughts together!
ReplyDeleteAnnie Dillard strikes again! She is as wonderful as ever. Thank you for this specific excerpt.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite part is - "I stir the water with a finger, in case it's running out of oxygen." My mind does that with its haphazard thoughts. What clear perspective she protrays. I think you should keep reading from her, because I can see that you connect with her diction and direction of thought. Wonderful focus and questions come forth from such musings :)
Wow! If you keep thinking in language as creative as you've used in this one blog post, you are definitely set for your capstone project. :)
ReplyDeleteDo you really think in those images, or do they just come out when you start writing?
I'm glad you could find a passage in your reading to inspire the beginning of your journey; I'm working with fiction, and I rarely have moments when reading in my genre (literary short fiction) where I pull out gems that excite and inspire me. Maybe I'll just have to keep digging...
I've never read Dillard, but I have a few of her books lying in my apartment waiting to be read. Her style is intense, but she has some beautiful ideas lying around there.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I like your faucet-dripping image. When it comes to creative images, this describes them nicely. I always feel like there's an idea floating around on the edge off somewhere, but it usually feels pretty distant and strange. I have to look for it for awhile.
Goodness, you have beautiful imagery in here. I love how you took it beyond just a normal blog post and turned it into something poetic.
ReplyDeleteYou do an excellent job at conveying your feelings towards the beginning of this capstone experience, and I'm sure you're reflecting some of the feelings of others. I especially liked the cobwebs and the cogs turning. Also, I loved the faucet image. The faucet in my room always drips during the quietest times, and it is the most dismal sounding thing, so I can relate to that.
The Annie Dillard quote was cool. Kind of random in its content, but I think that worked because it is a good way to get the gears moving.
Celinda, I really liked your post. The excerpt from Annie Dillard was amazing! She makes me pause and look closely at things. I could see the tiny lifeforms in her bowl of water. A strange thing... to dump murky water into a bowl. Who would think to do that? But then when the water settles, its clear and you see what's inside it. It reminds me to slow down and really LOOK at things.
ReplyDeleteI think it's the same way with writing. When we're having a hard time writing, we just need to slow down and SEE ourselves there. Look at the little things and appreciate the beauty, and WRITE about it.