Water that can devastate in an instant.
Water seems to be the perfect metaphor for my writing too.
I have a feeling that if I don't write I'll die, drown in the sadness of it all, the loneliness of it all, too much stuff that I have had to endure and stand against, as though I've travelled on a tiny ship across the oceans, feeling that at any moment, any turbulation would tip the balance, the tiny balance of my life. I'm only as strong as the thoughts I can articulate, the stories I can write down.
I write to unpack, to unload, to create new possibilities in front of me.
I write to fall in love with life again!
Wait a minute, you say, how can that be? Writing is not supposed to cure you of anything!
My answer, today's answer, is this: Writing is like falling in love all over again, opening up to a stranger, to someone you want to trust. It is also an archaeology trip. What exactly happened? I ask myself this all the time when I review a scene I just wrote.
What exactly happened to Sylvia in Venice?
Why is she so disoriented. as Amy pointed out?
Before Amy pointed that out, I thought Sylvia was just jealous and a bit confused about the goal of this trip. her husband is pointing out to her that the real souvenirs are the experiences she doesn't expect!
I'm retelling an every woman's story, the feeling inadequate unless her clothing is just so, feeling ignored, disappointed by her life. I'm feeling so much tenderness for this woman, who could be me, who could be you, at sometime in our lives.
We become these characters for a while. We transcend our own story, our own imperfect self in the art of creating an other's. We imagine and give life to an abstract thought, a half conceived feeling.
Our heats are never out of the picture, out of our activities.
Our hearts are most present when we create.
How about you?
How do you express your most intimate feelings and ideas?