I like the idea of "Writing Adventures and Detours" glorying in the journey. (Though "are we there yet?" was always a family joke when I was a kid, so I can kind of hear it in a playful way.)
"I find writing to be a fascinating process. Sometimes Iām not even sure how it all happens."
I've been thinking about that a lot lately and how often it feels like a poem came from someone else other than me. I find myself reading my own poems over and over and analyzing them and studying them as a reader instead of as a writer. It's such a weird feeling of detachment and wonder. Truly writing is amazing.
Yes! Sometimes it was a joke, sometimes it was a hope, sometimes it was a desperate need for a restroom. š But, newsletter wise, it felt like time for a bit of a shift. :)
Writing is so interesting, isn't it? And very cool that you're reading your own poems as a reader. Do you ever find yourself imagining what the writer was like when they wrote them? Do you have more empathy or curiosity or critique for the writer as you approach it from a readers viewpoint?
I'm never quite able to avoid the doubleness of awareness of being both writer and reader when I re-read my own work. But one of the things I find myself doing is reading more inter-textually, uncovering connections with other things I've been reading and pondering that were made unconsciously at the time. Or even connections with other things I've written that were purely unconscious and that I didn't notice as I was composing.
So it's still kind of engaging with the process of writing, because I have the insights into my own mind that I wouldn't have with another writer's work. But in the same way as if you are reading a poet's body of work you start to notice certain themes and preoccupations they keep coming back to over time, certain words and phrases and images that they seem to repeat over and over, I also start notice those things in my own writing. They aren't usually obvious to me when I'm in the middle of writing a poem, so I really make the connections in the process of reading.
But it is very much a mood of curiosity. Less critique because I'm not really looking for places where it could be improved, but a kind of more aloof critical eye. It's still hard to imagine how the words and images will speak to someone else who isn't me because I KNOW where they came from. But it's interesting to try to imagine being someone who doesn't have access to that knowledge who has a different frame of reference and trying to imagine what might resonate differently.
It's interesting. We got back from AuthorNation conference in Vegas and found our house had suffered massive water damage while were gone for almost two weeks. Not bothering with details, but the upshot is that every single item in our house (all 2400sft of it) got packed up and went into storage. So, once the house is ours again (maybe March, maybe April) every box that comes back to the house will have to be Marie Kondo'd.
The process has already started - since so much of the house will be rebuilt with new, it will be very hard to bring our old junk from boxes, some of which haven't even been opened in a decade. I'm sure a lot of things will spark joy, but I suspect, as you mentioned - a lot of them will simply be 'stuff' that has no place in our life anymore.
My situation isn't something I'd recommend to anyone, however your plan is stellar - forced sorting of things. Not making snap decisions about it, but an actual plan to take a look after the passion has cooled, and make logical decisions on the 'stuff'.
And so sorry to hear about the water damage. That sucks! Definitely not the way one wants to start a Maybe Box Adventure. I hope the rebuilding goes smoothly and that your refurbished space is welcoming and comfortable.
Adam and I also use "Marie Kondo'd" as a verb. And it makes me happy to hear someone else does, too. :)
Your newsletters and words are always so comforting, Petra. Like that warm cup of tea.
I tend to "clean house" in the winter, too. I love giving to my local Buy Nothing group (on Facebook.) My husband is always surprised about what we don't want that someone else needs.
I hope your season of wintering is filled with peace and comfort, friend.
I like the idea of "Writing Adventures and Detours" glorying in the journey. (Though "are we there yet?" was always a family joke when I was a kid, so I can kind of hear it in a playful way.)
"I find writing to be a fascinating process. Sometimes Iām not even sure how it all happens."
I've been thinking about that a lot lately and how often it feels like a poem came from someone else other than me. I find myself reading my own poems over and over and analyzing them and studying them as a reader instead of as a writer. It's such a weird feeling of detachment and wonder. Truly writing is amazing.
Yes! Sometimes it was a joke, sometimes it was a hope, sometimes it was a desperate need for a restroom. š But, newsletter wise, it felt like time for a bit of a shift. :)
Writing is so interesting, isn't it? And very cool that you're reading your own poems as a reader. Do you ever find yourself imagining what the writer was like when they wrote them? Do you have more empathy or curiosity or critique for the writer as you approach it from a readers viewpoint?
I'm never quite able to avoid the doubleness of awareness of being both writer and reader when I re-read my own work. But one of the things I find myself doing is reading more inter-textually, uncovering connections with other things I've been reading and pondering that were made unconsciously at the time. Or even connections with other things I've written that were purely unconscious and that I didn't notice as I was composing.
So it's still kind of engaging with the process of writing, because I have the insights into my own mind that I wouldn't have with another writer's work. But in the same way as if you are reading a poet's body of work you start to notice certain themes and preoccupations they keep coming back to over time, certain words and phrases and images that they seem to repeat over and over, I also start notice those things in my own writing. They aren't usually obvious to me when I'm in the middle of writing a poem, so I really make the connections in the process of reading.
But it is very much a mood of curiosity. Less critique because I'm not really looking for places where it could be improved, but a kind of more aloof critical eye. It's still hard to imagine how the words and images will speak to someone else who isn't me because I KNOW where they came from. But it's interesting to try to imagine being someone who doesn't have access to that knowledge who has a different frame of reference and trying to imagine what might resonate differently.
That makes sense. And so interesting to begin to see one's own themes. Hooray for curiosity! :)
What a great article!
It's interesting. We got back from AuthorNation conference in Vegas and found our house had suffered massive water damage while were gone for almost two weeks. Not bothering with details, but the upshot is that every single item in our house (all 2400sft of it) got packed up and went into storage. So, once the house is ours again (maybe March, maybe April) every box that comes back to the house will have to be Marie Kondo'd.
The process has already started - since so much of the house will be rebuilt with new, it will be very hard to bring our old junk from boxes, some of which haven't even been opened in a decade. I'm sure a lot of things will spark joy, but I suspect, as you mentioned - a lot of them will simply be 'stuff' that has no place in our life anymore.
My situation isn't something I'd recommend to anyone, however your plan is stellar - forced sorting of things. Not making snap decisions about it, but an actual plan to take a look after the passion has cooled, and make logical decisions on the 'stuff'.
Thanks, V.R.! š
And so sorry to hear about the water damage. That sucks! Definitely not the way one wants to start a Maybe Box Adventure. I hope the rebuilding goes smoothly and that your refurbished space is welcoming and comfortable.
Adam and I also use "Marie Kondo'd" as a verb. And it makes me happy to hear someone else does, too. :)
Your newsletters and words are always so comforting, Petra. Like that warm cup of tea.
I tend to "clean house" in the winter, too. I love giving to my local Buy Nothing group (on Facebook.) My husband is always surprised about what we don't want that someone else needs.
I hope your season of wintering is filled with peace and comfort, friend.
Thanks, Michele! š
It is so cool, and interesting, how our 'stuff' can be so cyclical in need and giving.
And same winter wishes to you. :)