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Mar. 23rd, 2006
(no subject)
Mar. 23rd, 2006 11:42 amI wanted to say something about writing.
I wanted to say something about how I often run across statements, particularly from women (you can debate whether this is b/c women have a special need to make these statements, or if it's just the company I keep and the writers I read), about how they are staking out time, space, and psychic territory for their writing. That their writing comes first, come hell or high water. They are married to their Muse (sometimes almost literally; the most recent one I read used as its organizing image a wedding ring the author bought for herself), and earthly relationships can and will take a back seat and if that is selfish, then so be it. Artists are selfish. It's what allows them to create art.
And that is all well and good and true for the people who say it.
But I wanted to say that for me, while I might have to do that staking-out thing to make space for specific *projects* I want to work on, that this is not how it works for me.
It's not that I don't need to write in order to be happy or fulfilled. It's that I will always be writing.
In my life, writing seeps in like the water table. It permeates the earth of my life. I have been writing since I knew how to draw my own name, according to my parents. Sometimes the water table is healthy and high, and sometimes there is a drought, but it's always *there*. It never goes away. I am never in fear of it deserting me, of the well running dry.
And so I have no problem putting off writing in order to cook a good meal, or hang out with friends, or snuggle with a partner or two. Because these things make me happy, too, and they keep my ecosystem healthy, and the water table high. Plus, it's my life. I'm not beholden to Art. I'm beholden to myself, and my happiness only. And I hope it is not blasphemy to reveal that sometimes, what makes me happy is to spend time with real people instead of the worlds in my head.
I wanted to say something about how I often run across statements, particularly from women (you can debate whether this is b/c women have a special need to make these statements, or if it's just the company I keep and the writers I read), about how they are staking out time, space, and psychic territory for their writing. That their writing comes first, come hell or high water. They are married to their Muse (sometimes almost literally; the most recent one I read used as its organizing image a wedding ring the author bought for herself), and earthly relationships can and will take a back seat and if that is selfish, then so be it. Artists are selfish. It's what allows them to create art.
And that is all well and good and true for the people who say it.
But I wanted to say that for me, while I might have to do that staking-out thing to make space for specific *projects* I want to work on, that this is not how it works for me.
It's not that I don't need to write in order to be happy or fulfilled. It's that I will always be writing.
In my life, writing seeps in like the water table. It permeates the earth of my life. I have been writing since I knew how to draw my own name, according to my parents. Sometimes the water table is healthy and high, and sometimes there is a drought, but it's always *there*. It never goes away. I am never in fear of it deserting me, of the well running dry.
And so I have no problem putting off writing in order to cook a good meal, or hang out with friends, or snuggle with a partner or two. Because these things make me happy, too, and they keep my ecosystem healthy, and the water table high. Plus, it's my life. I'm not beholden to Art. I'm beholden to myself, and my happiness only. And I hope it is not blasphemy to reveal that sometimes, what makes me happy is to spend time with real people instead of the worlds in my head.
(no subject)
Mar. 23rd, 2006 04:27 pmTell me something you look forward to with me in the future, some occasion you would like to spend with me, some activity you would like to do.
It can be real, it can be fanciful. It can be smutty too, or not, but comments are not screened.
It can be real, it can be fanciful. It can be smutty too, or not, but comments are not screened.