‘On writing’ … now how’s that for a portentous “I’m-currently-a-writer-in-residence-don’tcha-know” type post title?

But to be honest, I couldn’t think of a better way of summarising it, so thought: “what the heck—portentous and pretentious it is!” I hope you will forgive me … (No, don’t answer that!)

So what about writing, then? Well, you see, one of the very good things about being a writer and having the internet (along with all the totally bad things, ie “time suck, big time” et al) is that you get to e-meet some interesting folk out there who would otherwise never have crossed your horizon. Like the excellent crew at SF-Signal (‘very many greetings’ and ‘y’all rock, definitely!’ salutations ensue) whom I’ve gotten to know a little, in a guest blog post-y and Mind Meld-y way over the past year.

(So when am I getting to the ‘on writing’ part? Patience, O little grasshoppers—although in fact, I’m already there, ie ‘Be a writer: meet some fun folks.’)

OK, now I really am at the (more serious)  “on writing ” part. One of those good SF Signal folks, Paul Weimer, guested over the weekend on writer Mhairi Simpson’s blog with a post titled “The Unwritten Stories in My Head.” You really should read it in full, here, but in summary it’s about having great ideas for stories and why we don’t write them.

Paul says it all boils down to fear, and I suspect he is all if not mostly right. He mentions some of the fears: rejection (aka “non selection”: he-he, ‘a rose by any other name’— is still a sourthistle!) in all its many guises; having to contend in the savage arena of public opinion, and simply that the ideas themselves may be ‘not good enough.’ These are not only very real fears, but may also be ‘fears of substance’, because yes, all these things will be in your cup should you choose to become a writer. And you will drink of them, too, down to the lees.

But here’s the thing—if we give in to the ideas and begin to write them down, they become their own reward. I suspect there may be a tendency “oot thar” to think of storytelling as a linear art (there’s the plot after all, right?) but in fact I think it’s more like a rainforest. The path is there before your feet, but in fact it’s not an asphalted or concreted superhighway: its muddy and leaf-littered; it bends, it wends, it may even loop back a time or two … And there may not be blue sky overhead, but layers of canopy and liana creepers … If you look closely there may be slow creeping tree sloths, or spider monkeys, or jaguars with the coughing roar that heralds danger. And it is a rainforest, so there’s defintely danger out there. As the intrepid explorer, best to bring the heavier of your machetes, not to mention quinine, mosquito netting, steel-toed boots and a pith helmet. (A flak jacket and bullet proof vest may also be advisable … ) So danger, yes: for sure. But there’s also colour and magic, wonder and mystery to be found in the rainforest that can comprise a host of characters peeping between the vines, or brave new worlds glimpsed around a bend in the great river we traverse in dugout canoes …

Or to say it in poetry, with a quote from the poem Angel Fish, by my friend-in-poetry Bernadette Hall:

“… The brain according
to the Novel prize-winning scientist
Gerald Edelman, is not at all like
a computer. It’s more like a rainforest

‘teeming with growth. decay, competition,
diversity and selection.’ So this word
is a toucan, this poem, a yellow
casque hornbill hiding beneath a canopy”

(from The Lustre Jug, VUP, 2009)

The other thing about the rainforest of ideas that is writing, is that they’re connected to dreams—and even if the reality proves to be more mud, mosquitos and malaria, (not to mention piranhas) than Winston Churchill’s “broad, sunlit uplands” it may nonetheless prove both wonderful, and a wonder, if we grant ourselves the opportunity to investigate our dreams.

So I think, when it comes to investigating a dream of writing, the final quote must go to Goethe:

“Whatever you can do
or dream you can,
begin it.

Boldness has genius, magic
and power in it.

Begin it now.”

.

Kia kaha, dear grasshoppers: begin it now!