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 “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection” Anais Nin

Lately, I've been stuck in my own head, having a days-long fight with myself about writing and not really fully understanding why I've been feeling so completely out of sorts.  Then, the other night I went to a book launch by the first time novelist, Nathan Whitlock (A Week of This). As it is, I had to force myself out of the house and my hermit like tendencies to go down the damn street to attend this event.

It turned out to be worth the effort.

Rather than reading from his book, Nathan gave us some tips on how to write a novel. It was witty and self deprecating, but (though it could have been self projection) underneath it were signs of a very real struggle with w0rds, the act of writing, and all the BS that we writers put ourselves through to just get the damn thing out. 

One of his tips was "recycle, reuse and reject" - something that had great resonance for me. He said when he was looking for a topic for his book, he went back over previous writing, things he'd rejected for various reasons, and from the pile salvaged a story that became the premise of A Week of This. He then said that almost none of what he originally wrote made it into the book.

I understand this because it's what I've been in the process of doing, and I think the reason for my fight with myself. You see, some of my best ideas for long form writing have been products of a past that, now worked through, I have chosen to discard (regular readers will remember I ripped up some 100 journals worth of documentation of my life.) Salvaging those few good ideas means revisiting stuff I really don't want to. I mean, do I have to?

Therein lies the wrestle.

Back in university creative writing class we learned that you're not really writing until you can confront yourself. It doesn't help that just about every writer I've ever talked to, and that's been alot of them, have said the same damn thing! I've confronted myself enough  for one lifetime through years of therapy, so I know what I'm in for. Not only is it difficult, but it's actually extremely isolating. It has physical and emotional repercussions. It takes preparation and an enormous amount of self-care going forward, as well as a good support system (which I have to say, I really don't have, so you can imagine my trepidation).

I've designated this year as the one to really make a go of my craft.  I organized my life around it, making plenty of time for it. Now it must be done.

My aunt Madeleine, an artist involved in the intricate labour of painting Mandelas, which can take anywhere between a year and three to complete,  used to have a sacred smudge ceremony done before she started a new piece, for the very reason that she knew she'd be dredging up volatile issues for herself. She used to advise me to do the same before a new project.

Good idea!