Such a relief to encounter you again. For days now I've been growing more and more lonely. It's not that I'm not with people, nor that we haven't sometimes had enjoyable conversations, but an absence has been gnawing at me, and this morning on the train, I found out what it was.
Having wrestled with the issue of creativity recently, I'd turned to LeGuin's Steering the Craft to try to activate my writing. She's a good writer, and I'm prepared to do anything. The first assignment titled Being Gorgeous told me to write some narrative employing sound effects like onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition, rhythmic effects, made-up words or names, dialect, but not rhyme or meter, and meant to be read aloud.
Okay, I said to myself last night, here goes, and filled a few notebook pages with dead, directionless nonsense. I read it and groaned. It was late; I went to bed.
In the shower at 6:15 the next morning however, energized by the hot water, I started to think of something better than the dull make-work of the previous night. What about a set of illustrations from an alien creature how-to lovemaking guide. A narrative could be the series of captions elucidating the details of the pictures.
I began to think of all kinds of creatures practicing different kinds of amorous moves. My imagination went beyond the limits of human anatomy: why only two arms? why only five senses?
Later on the train, notebook in lap, I got down to the good work of actually imagining specific tableaux of entanglement involving particular organs and acts--and here's the thing--you, my creative playmate, showed up, guiding my story forward, whipping out weird nomenclature with a jovial facility that suggests the well is deep.
The confident creativity that characterizes you could have gone on much further--I sensed I was in the zone--but the train arrived at Community College. How delighted I was to sense your presence, magisterial and impish at the same time. How I'd missed your ability to surprise me with myself.
Not running this week because of a hamstring injury has made me a bit moody, so your showing up lightened the day remarkable. I caught myself feeling even exuberant. Don't wait so long to turn up again, or I'll have to come after you.
Having wrestled with the issue of creativity recently, I'd turned to LeGuin's Steering the Craft to try to activate my writing. She's a good writer, and I'm prepared to do anything. The first assignment titled Being Gorgeous told me to write some narrative employing sound effects like onomatopoeia, alliteration, repetition, rhythmic effects, made-up words or names, dialect, but not rhyme or meter, and meant to be read aloud.
Okay, I said to myself last night, here goes, and filled a few notebook pages with dead, directionless nonsense. I read it and groaned. It was late; I went to bed.
In the shower at 6:15 the next morning however, energized by the hot water, I started to think of something better than the dull make-work of the previous night. What about a set of illustrations from an alien creature how-to lovemaking guide. A narrative could be the series of captions elucidating the details of the pictures.
I began to think of all kinds of creatures practicing different kinds of amorous moves. My imagination went beyond the limits of human anatomy: why only two arms? why only five senses?
Later on the train, notebook in lap, I got down to the good work of actually imagining specific tableaux of entanglement involving particular organs and acts--and here's the thing--you, my creative playmate, showed up, guiding my story forward, whipping out weird nomenclature with a jovial facility that suggests the well is deep.
The confident creativity that characterizes you could have gone on much further--I sensed I was in the zone--but the train arrived at Community College. How delighted I was to sense your presence, magisterial and impish at the same time. How I'd missed your ability to surprise me with myself.
Not running this week because of a hamstring injury has made me a bit moody, so your showing up lightened the day remarkable. I caught myself feeling even exuberant. Don't wait so long to turn up again, or I'll have to come after you.
Wonderful stuff here, Peter! I know both feelings you describe -- the deadening flow of dull words coming from the pen (a laptop computer, in my case) and the feeling of floating that comes with more imaginative effusions, following them to wherever they lead and not knowing how they came to be but appreciating that you are the fortunate conduit. I wish you nothing but writing well whenever you write, sir!
ReplyDelete