Still nothing

 

Using pictures as prompts

Too much?

When much becomes too much? and the need to relay ideas and information muddies the clarity of the message.
Looking at my MG I wonder.
It is clear in my head,true, but I keep worrying about the readers. Do they get it?
So I find myself adding things,than taking them off,adding other things, taking them off. If I do it enough there comes a moment when I manage to confuse myself too.
Was the first version the best? often it is.
But the revision so important, the second look, the one I try to do thought the eyes of the readers.

And so this is how my head looks at the end of the first one or two revisions, and now I have to resort the main ideas, the important points, those that are important to me and leave the rest behind.
So hard, so painfull.

But the reward I know is somewhere at the end of the process, when the piece re-emerge, maybe shorter, minus some great thoughts, I believed where absolutely necessary but so much better.
And I can take a deep breath and walk away. Until tomorrow when I look at it again and think, maybe...

White Canvas syndrome

Talking to my student writer we discussed the differences between different mediums of artistic expression comparing the visual arts to writing and the specific obstacles each one of them pose.

"For a writer there is nothing worse than white paper syndrome; for an artist there is indeed an equal frustration - White Canvas Syndrome! It is a malady we artists all suffer on occasion and when it strikes it surely puts one at a complete and disheartening loss. Motivation flies south for the winter, swiftly ensued by any wisp of desire left in one to do anything at all, let alone begin a new artwork! For this reason alone it is best to never even ponder an attempt at working cold onto a blank canvas."
http://tahala.wordpress.com/2010/07/13/got-white-canvas-syndrome/

This conversation brought back some of my old writings on the same topic;

A story teller,  is like a painter. He needs to patiently lay the background, add the right colors to set the mood and place. He needs to introduce the heroes, for every good story needs a hero, or two.  And so a fine story is about the right balance between background and participants.  It is about setting the tone by using the right colors. It is about weaving a plot with the utmost respect, stringing all the threads without losing any, to create a beautiful fabric.

And another time

"Creating something out of nothing is filling a void. Where there was nothing just a minute ago a building is now standing with all its grandeur. Where there was quiet, a song is now filling the emptiness, the picture on the empty wall, the story to capture our imagination in a long winter night. "

The reward though when finishing, any art work, a writing, a drawing, a sculpture...so big, so fulfilling

 

Multi -genre

Almost done with the project. At the end I had a lot that I wanted to say but it became way too long. Also it was hard to make each entry different so it will stand on its own and will have a clear statement.

Some issues regarding pulling out some older stuff (after all it all happened few years ago) using external information and the biggest issue to my surprise was the flash fiction component.

I am not a fiction writer, I knew that for awhile so no surprise there, but now facing it again as a requirement I felt resentment. Forced to do something I knew I was not good at.

That was also a double or even triple edge hurdle. The project being autobiographical in nature was calling for non-fiction material and I had lots of that to offer. When I picked homeschooling as my MG I did so because I thought that it will be interesting to put the experience in a nicely organized package. Also because it is such a rich subject. I did not think at the time that I am venturing into a group of teachers and that I might find myself treading carefully, choosing my words with care.

Well I guess I was facing what every writing student has to deal with;

Finding my own voice.

Identifying the right tone, length, color.

Dealing with the restrictions the material was posing.

Forcing myself, or being forced, into an assignment that I preferred not do.

Being true to myself yet trying not to hurt anyone.


On the bright side I had a lot of fun trying to put this project together.

The organization aspect of how to present such a large and complex issue with clarity was challenging. The visual aspects intriguing.

Collecting the material and going down memory lane was exciting and rewarding.

Knowing that at the end of the road there will be an interested audience, kept me treading along.

Seeing the final product was immensely satisfying.

And beyond

 

From the outside back in

 

 

To infinity and back

 



My other backyard

Unused laundry lines, open grass, wood pile and an old stone fence and beyond it the tree line; this is what I see from my dining room window. I stand there every morning pouring hot water and fresh brewed coffee, while watching the familiar scenery. For a split second I think of other backyards I watched, in the early morning hours, with my mind drifting aimlessly.  These moments when the daily activities have not yet fully capture my mind often bring forward pictures of times and places I already forgot.

It’s still early and everything out there seems completely motionless yet there is a feeling of anticipation, or maybe it is just me waiting for something to move, and shatter the idle scene. I am so utterly engrossed I forget everything behind me.

And then a movement, I catch it in the corner of my eye and all of a sudden I feel awake and alert. My eyes are scanning the scenery, nothing. Was there someone or something moving in the woods? Everything looks uninterrupted and deserted as before. I remember reading that in order to really see you need to let your eyes wonder and not focus on any specific point. Often the best place to hide is in plain sight, and the eye movement, without directly focusing, will do the trick. I discovered this brainy bead in a science fiction book. It is a great tool to locate aliens but who knows, it might work in my backyard too. So I try this technique and move my eyes ever so slowly, from side to side. Its’ a good practice I notice. I pinpoint details I never noticed before. The huge branches of the old pine tree in the back are sagging, almost touching the ground they will need to be trimmed.  The red roof over the small shade looks broken in some spots and will have to be fixed. The wood pile is dwindling …

And then that movement again, it is so fast I don’t really see it, just an impression of a motion in the quiet morning air. I feel a bud of stubbornness growing inside me, I sense there is something there and I want to see it. I turn back to the coffee pretending I don’t care but throw quick glances over my shoulder every few seconds. I realize, as I am doing it, that this elaborate psychological approach is geared mostly towards me. Its’ based on another outside wisdom I acquired somewhere. It stated that like the pendulum move, if you push too hard you lose the needed equilibrium. If, on the other hand, you stop pushing, the other side will be forced to make a move. Anyways, it’s time to pour the coffee before it’ll become ice cold.

A movement behind the wood pile, I freeze with the coffee pitcher in my hand. Without moving my body I turn my head slowly and immediately stop breathing. There is big deer standing there looking straight at me. Even though I am hundreds of feet away, and inside, the feeling that he can see me is overwhelming.  And then the animal does what I least expect, almost as if finishing a thorough assessment and finding me harmless it shrugs its shoulders and steppes into the open.

I can’t believe it; this huge animal who managed to blend so well into the trees chooses to reveal itself. I walk slowly towards the window afraid it will evaporate into the air like a mirage but no, it’s as real as the trees, the red shed and the wood pile. This beautiful animal is just standing there and completely unfazed by me, behind the window; chews on some yellow blades of last year’s grass.

Every once in awhile for no apparent reason its skin ripples and his ears perk up and turn as if to hear far away sounds. It picks his head and scans the forest behind him and then visibly satisfied turn back to chewing.

I watch him for awhile and then unwillingly return to my boiling coffee. When I look back few minutes later I catch its back walking into the forest slowly and unhurried. Two seconds later as if merging into the trees it is gone.