I had a bit of an a-ha moment today. I'm copying the post I made on my Blogger blog below. It mightn't all make sense to others, but it makes sense to me! And I'm ecstatic!
What a Morning!
I'm having a great day! I packed my backpack with scribblers, books and pens, strapped it on and headed off over the hill. Even though I was going to the Goodie Shop restaurant, I went through the Ritchie Wharf and walked along the water for a way. Just because I like walking by the water. I should go to strawberry marsh some day and walk. I noticed the hours on the library door (closed today until 1pm) and lucked out by getting the last booth in the restaurant, the only one without a window. That way I couldn't get distracted by passersby and parking lot mishaps.
I ordered water, black coffee, the MANGO approved omelet with onions, mushrooms, green peppers & tomatoes, and whole wheat toast, plain, no butter. While I waited for the food to arrive I opened a notebook and put pen to paper for "morning pages." Julia Cameron talks about morning pages in her book
The Artists Way, which I have yet to read. Basically it's three pages of writing, long hand, anything that comes to your head. There is no pressure to make it perfect. It can be a to-do list repeated over and over or even your name. It doesn't have to make sense. It's just the act of putting pen to paper. To get going.
I struggle with that freedom, letting loose, not worrying about editing, re-writing, perfecting. It's an issue for me. Morning pages are supposed to help. Writing the Sammy story helped. It's kind of the same exercise. Without morning pages, I never would have finished the salmon adventure. I had to allow myself the freedom to just let fly and write whatever came into my head, push forward without thought to grammar, spelling, even making sense of the whole thing. It's a good practice for me to get into and maintain. Especially since I want to get back to my real writing, the serious stuff, the novel, to Limbo itself and my little Irish man Callum and the leaves swirling in the lane.
Yeah! I'm ready to go there again. And how do I know I'm ready? (cuz I've thought I was ready before and nothing happened you know) Because when I opened my notebook and put pen to paper to begin morning pages while I waited for breakfast, without hesitation I began, "Callum met Prue at the legion. He would often go there on a Thursday night to sit and sip a beer quietly in the back corner of the pool room . . ." And I continued through breakfast and a second cup of coffee. I didn't want to stop. I could have wrote all day. It was like I had never stopped writing. I could see him and her and how they met as if I just saw them yesterday. And the excitement! The thrill of having the words spill out and onto the page. To create on the fly and form be damned! I cannot even describe the adrenaline, how pumped I got sitting there with the waitress giving me strange looks, perhaps wondering what I was furiously scribbling. I wanted to come home and let fly for the rest of the day. (But I've got A LOT of work to do on other things, no time for that right now.)
It felt good. I feel good about it. I need to do more of that. I will do more of that. I will not keep myself from my true passion any longer. Life is too short. There are enough hours in the day. I can do it all, have it all, be it all. And I will.
