Spend it all now

May 27, 2009

“Spend it all now,” Annie Dillard wrote in The Writing Life. Don’t hoard your best ideas and words, saving them for a more opportune time. Some ideas take time to germinate, of course, but a seed must be planted in order to grow.

Sometimes I spend my writing time describing little scenes that come into my head and end up going nowhere. Sometimes I lay out lines of poetry that sound good at first … and not so good later. Sometimes I avoid writing altogether. Sometimes I write clipped little phrases that I can’t seem to shape into poetry, so instead I end up copying out lines of songs or poems that I love. Why bother writing something new when Paul Simon or T.S. Eliot or Bono has already said it better than I could?Seedling

I spent a long time crafting my last short story. I wrote and rewrote and threw out a lot of what I wrote. I fell in love with the characters. I was amazed to see scenes coming into focus and detail as I worked, developing like Polaroid photos. When the story ended, I thought, “That was it. That was all I had. I’m out of ideas.” And I spent a lot of time looking for a new story, writing little blurbs that led nowhere. But last week, one short anecdote planted a seed in my mind, and that seed has rapidly sprouted into a seedling story. I am at the roughest rough draft stage, typing as much as I can about every character and every scene I see. And so the story grows.

Maybe those other hours that felt fruitless were actually useful for composting and tilling the soil so the story seed could take root and grow. I know that I am working on a real story right now, not just an exercise. Whether it will be a good story remains to be seen. But it is a story that I can finish. When I am done, I may think, “That was it. I’ve spent everything; I have no other stories in me.”

This is the writing life, and this is the life of faith. Using all you have, giving it all away, trusting that even if you have nothing left at the end of the day, you will be given what you need to do all that you are required to do.


The Good Work

May 17, 2009

Last night Jeremy and I went to a barbeque. It was Friday night, and we were all engaged in drinking our root beers and beers and grape sodas and slowly decompressing at the end of the work week. In the midst of this, Rory, who is the lead singer and songwriter of Jeremy’s band, commented, “Well, it’s back to work tomorrow.”

“What? No.” It was an emphatic statement. Ryan, chief burger griller for the night, was ready for the week to be over.

“No, no,” Rory said, “The good work. We’re back in the studio tomorrow.”

The band, Valhalla Hill, is working on recording their first EP. They put in a long day’s work a couple weeks ago, and they’ll be in the studio about twenty hours this weekend. That’s a lot of work on top of the fulltime jobs they do all week. But it is, as Rory said, good work.

Since Jeremy is in the studio all day today, I’ve been working on writing – writing in an old-fashioned composition notebook on my couch at home, walking down to the beach to write some more, walking to a coffee shop to type on my computer. Mostly it is just practice writing. I’d like to accomplish something, like a poem, or a good chunk of a story, but practice writing is okay too. Practice is part of the good work.

One of my great frustrations with life is that I can only do one thing at a time. On beautiful, wide-open Saturdays like today, I am often overwhelmed by the myriad of things I could be doing. That is one of the reasons why I struggle with the practice of writing. So much of it is scratch work that will never see publication. I want so badly to spend my time doing something significant. Hours of practice seem insignificant, but lately I have been learning that these hours are necessary in creating the good work. Madeleine L’Engle likens this kind of work to the finger exercises a pianist does to train and strengthen her hands to play a Bach fugue. Every form of art requires practice.

For many of us, the good work of creating is what makes our weekday jobs worthwhile. And exercise and training are what make grade-A creative work possible. So, for the time being, I’ll keep practicing my scales in hopes that when the time comes to play the concerto or fugue, I’ll be ready.


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.