Amazing article Alison! Realizing I need to work at untethering my left brain - the brain that has been recognized, encouraged, and admired by my friends, family and profession. This to open up the space and emptiness necessary to create whatever negative capability is required in my writing• I have been nibbling at the edges of my novel, afraid to dive in to feast on its essence - lest I come down with indigestion ha ha.
As my father slid into the long loss of memory that came with his Alzheimer's, his last battle was to try to challenge the certainty of one group (and their attempt to impose that certainty on others). He wrote letters to the editor, spoke about this in his church (and was eventually excommunicated by them for this), railing against the danger to society when one party or group of people couldn't tolerant any ambiguity, were black and white thinkers. This is what I was reminded of with your use of the phrase of negative capability. And I realize that as a story teller-both in my profession as a historian and my current life as a writer--I turn to my father's words, trying to create both a narrative of past events and fictional characters who can accept the discomfort of not knowing, of even discovering that what they thought they knew might be wrong. As a mystery writer, I do try to give readers a sense of closure, that the wrongs have been righted, the confusion cleared up, but I can see that this gives me the leeway to also challenge the reader to accept--tolerate--the ambiguities of life. In my own life, I can see the damage I have done with my certainty, and the joy I can get if I just say, I don't know. As usual, thanks for the thought-provoking piece.
I love this. It took me a long time with photographs to learn about the use of "negative space" (and even now I don't use it extensively). I know I am trying to let more mystery appear in my writing, letting go of concrete facts more often in order to share experience. The feeling experience can get lost in too many words.
And yes, honestly, every week exactly what I need comes to me somewhere. It might come from another writer (on a topic you'd never imagine), from a comment at work, from a random post, from a dream or from a friend. But it comes. Every time it reminds me the mystery is there, weaving behind the scenes.
OK. I'm going to start earlier than I think I should, but I will, I promise, end sooner than I think I should:
"Do you find when you are writing, absorbed in the task of weaving your story, your poem, your words, that all that comes to you, while in that space, eventually connects in the oddest ways—even the most disparate pieces?"
Yes. Like two years ago when I was writing a character piece to be presented on stage and I wrote "he" instead of "it", a typo, brain fart ... or, was it? ... I went with it. He became another character, a ghost, an "ancestor" as the Abenaki refer to them, and, now, later, he has become the central thread of my novel, the understory.
As to the rest of what you've written, again, too much information: It is sweltering. My brain is hazing over. I must get me to the river. But... I will be back to read this again. There is so so much in it and I so appreciate the things you are saying and discussing. Clearer heads will prevail.
Amazing article Alison! Realizing I need to work at untethering my left brain - the brain that has been recognized, encouraged, and admired by my friends, family and profession. This to open up the space and emptiness necessary to create whatever negative capability is required in my writing• I have been nibbling at the edges of my novel, afraid to dive in to feast on its essence - lest I come down with indigestion ha ha.
As my father slid into the long loss of memory that came with his Alzheimer's, his last battle was to try to challenge the certainty of one group (and their attempt to impose that certainty on others). He wrote letters to the editor, spoke about this in his church (and was eventually excommunicated by them for this), railing against the danger to society when one party or group of people couldn't tolerant any ambiguity, were black and white thinkers. This is what I was reminded of with your use of the phrase of negative capability. And I realize that as a story teller-both in my profession as a historian and my current life as a writer--I turn to my father's words, trying to create both a narrative of past events and fictional characters who can accept the discomfort of not knowing, of even discovering that what they thought they knew might be wrong. As a mystery writer, I do try to give readers a sense of closure, that the wrongs have been righted, the confusion cleared up, but I can see that this gives me the leeway to also challenge the reader to accept--tolerate--the ambiguities of life. In my own life, I can see the damage I have done with my certainty, and the joy I can get if I just say, I don't know. As usual, thanks for the thought-provoking piece.
I love this. It took me a long time with photographs to learn about the use of "negative space" (and even now I don't use it extensively). I know I am trying to let more mystery appear in my writing, letting go of concrete facts more often in order to share experience. The feeling experience can get lost in too many words.
And yes, honestly, every week exactly what I need comes to me somewhere. It might come from another writer (on a topic you'd never imagine), from a comment at work, from a random post, from a dream or from a friend. But it comes. Every time it reminds me the mystery is there, weaving behind the scenes.
“Creative work is birthed of mystery” so good, Alison !
OK. I'm going to start earlier than I think I should, but I will, I promise, end sooner than I think I should:
"Do you find when you are writing, absorbed in the task of weaving your story, your poem, your words, that all that comes to you, while in that space, eventually connects in the oddest ways—even the most disparate pieces?"
Yes. Like two years ago when I was writing a character piece to be presented on stage and I wrote "he" instead of "it", a typo, brain fart ... or, was it? ... I went with it. He became another character, a ghost, an "ancestor" as the Abenaki refer to them, and, now, later, he has become the central thread of my novel, the understory.
As to the rest of what you've written, again, too much information: It is sweltering. My brain is hazing over. I must get me to the river. But... I will be back to read this again. There is so so much in it and I so appreciate the things you are saying and discussing. Clearer heads will prevail.
Be well.