Wow... what do you find is Key to letting that happen? (I realize you could probably share thousands of words on this, and there's no shortcut...) Or is it just that: Get out of the way... ? Maybe another question is: what prompted this realization? You may not have time--but you've made me curious!
Well yeah lots, but I have started a new novel and I find that I am not forcing myself to write anything extraneous on the first draft (the kind of extra stuff that comes from the fear of having nothing to say). It feels like when things present themselves that want to be in this draft, even if it seems a bit overwhelming, I'll follow that inner request and most of the time I see quite immediately how it may serve the story. Kind of like saying "here, take my seat," in public transit or the line at the supermarket, or "after you." I feel a little like, at times I've "imposed" on the story, rather than let it emerge. At least that what seems to be happening this week. Of course the other thing is feeling like I don't know what a story is...at all...so I'll work on that.
I'm so glad you took the time to share this. This is valuable--from the "Here, take my seat!" to your words about "fear of having nothing to say."
And in your last line, so much about the courage to go on in spite of doubt. I trust this week will follow in the wake of this past one. Thank you, Andrew.
Hi Alison. Please take care of yourself as you reach these final stages of your manuscript. I'm sure you will get there okay. I like the phrase "Trust emergence". So often when we write it is from hunches and we have to trust that eventually we can stitch them together with integrity.
Apr 13, 2022·edited Apr 13, 2022Liked by Alison Acheson
The difference between knowing and knowing about is perhaps the reason why it took me three decades to start writing creatively, freely, without pedagogical intent. (My only 'literary' pieces in those three decades were short texts for my language-teaching courses: the day job.) The curse of studying literature, for me, was being too conscious of technique to write any.
Going back those 30 years, I remember the feeling as I brought my doctoral research to a close: of having a world in my head that no-one else had the faintest inkling of. It was a great relief to get it out of my head and into a 300-page thesis. I guess that's akin to where you're at now.
Then we send our baby out into the world and hope for the best. Feeling hopeful and maybe slightly bereft?
after feeling silenced for a decade. (And the role her academic life played in that.)
I remember the feeling of sitting first in English classes and then in history classes...and deciding that if I had to settle on one--as the institutions push at us to do--it should be history. Listening to people rip apart how a story was told made me want to run. (And far too much info about the writer's life--THAT always made me feel queasy!)
Glad you rediscovered the real of writing, and exploring the knowing.
"Listening to people rip apart how a story was told made me want to run." 😀 Every word overinterpreted in the most humourless way; endless discussions of abstruse theories in the secondary literature to the extent that the alleged object of study was entirely obscured from view. "For goodness' sake," I used to think, "maybe Goethe just happened to get out of bed that day and write that particular line that way. Lighten up, folks …"
My PhD was more to do with early printing and a swashbuckling Reformation maverick plagiarist. Obscure, but fun 😊
Courage and peace to you, too, Alison. Thank you for this.
Thank YOU, Madeleine, for being here, and reading and writing! Yes, peace and courage to all as we write on...
Thank you Alison. This is so nourishing.
Thank you, Andrew--I so appreciate your note! I hope you are having a very good Sunday.
Yes, thanks Alison. Learning how to get out of the way of my stories and let them happen! What a journey! I hope your day is going well too.
Wow... what do you find is Key to letting that happen? (I realize you could probably share thousands of words on this, and there's no shortcut...) Or is it just that: Get out of the way... ? Maybe another question is: what prompted this realization? You may not have time--but you've made me curious!
Well yeah lots, but I have started a new novel and I find that I am not forcing myself to write anything extraneous on the first draft (the kind of extra stuff that comes from the fear of having nothing to say). It feels like when things present themselves that want to be in this draft, even if it seems a bit overwhelming, I'll follow that inner request and most of the time I see quite immediately how it may serve the story. Kind of like saying "here, take my seat," in public transit or the line at the supermarket, or "after you." I feel a little like, at times I've "imposed" on the story, rather than let it emerge. At least that what seems to be happening this week. Of course the other thing is feeling like I don't know what a story is...at all...so I'll work on that.
I'm so glad you took the time to share this. This is valuable--from the "Here, take my seat!" to your words about "fear of having nothing to say."
And in your last line, so much about the courage to go on in spite of doubt. I trust this week will follow in the wake of this past one. Thank you, Andrew.
Hi Alison. Please take care of yourself as you reach these final stages of your manuscript. I'm sure you will get there okay. I like the phrase "Trust emergence". So often when we write it is from hunches and we have to trust that eventually we can stitch them together with integrity.
And that's a wonderful piece: stitch together with integrity... yes! Thank you, Cali. What work this is--it takes and it gives!
The difference between knowing and knowing about is perhaps the reason why it took me three decades to start writing creatively, freely, without pedagogical intent. (My only 'literary' pieces in those three decades were short texts for my language-teaching courses: the day job.) The curse of studying literature, for me, was being too conscious of technique to write any.
Going back those 30 years, I remember the feeling as I brought my doctoral research to a close: of having a world in my head that no-one else had the faintest inkling of. It was a great relief to get it out of my head and into a 300-page thesis. I guess that's akin to where you're at now.
Then we send our baby out into the world and hope for the best. Feeling hopeful and maybe slightly bereft?
Post-partum. All writers feel this, I suspect, as their--finally complete!--manuscript goes out to the world.
Katharine Haake wrote a wonderful book called "What Our Speech Disrupts" https://www.amazon.com/What-Our-Speech-Disrupts-Feminism/dp/0814156711
after feeling silenced for a decade. (And the role her academic life played in that.)
I remember the feeling of sitting first in English classes and then in history classes...and deciding that if I had to settle on one--as the institutions push at us to do--it should be history. Listening to people rip apart how a story was told made me want to run. (And far too much info about the writer's life--THAT always made me feel queasy!)
Glad you rediscovered the real of writing, and exploring the knowing.
"Listening to people rip apart how a story was told made me want to run." 😀 Every word overinterpreted in the most humourless way; endless discussions of abstruse theories in the secondary literature to the extent that the alleged object of study was entirely obscured from view. "For goodness' sake," I used to think, "maybe Goethe just happened to get out of bed that day and write that particular line that way. Lighten up, folks …"
My PhD was more to do with early printing and a swashbuckling Reformation maverick plagiarist. Obscure, but fun 😊