Bryan Russell (aka Ink) blogs at Alchemy of Writing. He is moderator/sheriff in the Forums and has my vote for Prime Minister of Canada
I had a very clear image, when I was young, of the path I was going to take. The Writer’s Journey. More specifically, the writer’s journey I would take, carefully laid out, 1, 2, 3, 4. It was a neat little trip. Very orderly. Very tidy. In high school, once I knew that yes telling stories is what I wanted to do, I decided to major in Creative Writing at University. Thus, The Plan: 1) Study Creative Writing. 2) Write A Book. 3) Get An Agent. 4) Get Book Published. (Yes, everything on the list was capitalized. This is Important Stuff)
And note the neatness! The tidiness! Note the lack of anything implanting itself between the end of University and the Glories of Publication!
I had a plan. It was very comforting, that plan. So I went to school, got good grades, wrote a few short stories, won some academic awards. 1… check. In fact, number 1 was so fun that I added 1b: Grad School. A Masters Degree and a chance to write a novel! I could squoosh 2 into 1b! Bonus marks for me. So Grad school and a novel.
Yet, somewhere along this path, I learned that writing was hard, getting an agent harder, and getting published even more so. But this was an abstract knowledge. Getting published was very hard, yes. You know, for other people. I had a plan, you see. It was right there on the list, number 4: Get Book Published. See? No problem. Obviously the whole idea of difficulty did not apply to me.
But, just to be safe, just to uphold the proper hardworking image, I got a degree in Education. A job! A career! But it was okay because I had my book. In fact, I had a few books. Peachy! Ahead of schedule. Here I was, just out of school, and I had books!
So I sent one of these books off to an agent and they said yes. This was good, and all according to The Plan. See? Right there, number 3) Get An Agent.
1, 2, 3. Neat and tidy. And then something funny happened, something… messy. We’ll call it 5) Life. And 5, let me tell you, was pushy. It would not stay in line. It had to jump in there ahead of 4.
There were lots of parts to number 5) Life, lots of addendums, provisos and postscripts.
I developed a disease, Colitis. And then my father died suddenly and everything went a little dark. There were shadows I had never noticed before, the weight of light shrugged off and forgotten. In these shadows it seemed hard to find words, to gather them in and set them down in neat little rows, the tidy rows I had always loved so much. And then my agent died, cancer stealing her away just when she was about to start submitting my novel.
5) Life.
Yet I had just gotten married. I bought a house, started a family, left one career and started another, having decided to open a little bookshop. There were lights in the darkness. And I remembered, always, a winter day just after my father died. Snow on the ground, the air sharp as a pine needle on cold skin. And the light, this slanted light coming down and refracting off the snow, a clean glow rising like mist and lingering in the air. So beautiful it ached, a permanent visual echo lodged in my memories… and I knew this was something important. Even here, on the far side of loss, there was beauty and light.
I began to write again, thinking of that halo of light over the snow. I put the old novel away. It wasn’t ready yet, anyway, agent or no agent. I’d rewrite it some day, but now I needed something new.
New books, new family, new store. New life, in a way, though forever tethered to the old. And now the process continues. I’m back at 3) Get An Agent. The list, now, is dirty, wrinkled, old. Well worn. I laugh at the Capitals. I know a little more about 5) Life. And, what’s more, I know a little more about writing. The two are not unconnected.
It’s a different plan, in many ways, a different understanding. Difficulty can apply to me as easily as it does to anyone else. Indeed, some have had it easier… though many have had it far worse. Yet that difficulty is part of my path. Perhaps I’m even better for it.
Still moving forward, full of hope.
And you? What keeps you moving forward on your path… or keeps you moving forward even when you’re off the path? I see clean light on snow. I see it and know there’s something yet to share, to say, to write. To live. And you?
Dear Ink,
Your post is beautiful, in terms of poetic writing skill and 5)Life. How do I keep going? Life tosses slings and arrows of outrageous fortune at everyone, interspersed with Kodachrome colours. I need a crutch, all the time, to run & celebrate or weep. I know Him as the Eternal Word.
He's a writer, too.
Wow. This is so beautifully written you should have had a link so we could buy more of your work.
thanks for making that crazy variable called Life so poetic!
My list, started when I was 11, has disintegrated from being reread, revised and re-folded over the many years since that decision.
Life got in the way as did many health issues which, while giving me the opportunity to write full-time, has also dulled my enthusiasm for the craft. Now that I'm staring my mortality in the face (nose to nose with it, in fact), I don't seem to be able to conjur up the joy I once took in creating tales, crafting stories and committing them to posterity.
If there is one thing I encourage in my stepkids, it's to follow your dreams when you're young. Do wnat you really want to do before life's roadblocks leave you looking back at the derailments along your path and you no longer have the time to explore those branching paths.
Ah – to have such a clear plan. For me, Live was first. All my plans fell through and yet life carried on. Marriage, two boys, moving to the bush. Never ever planned any of it. Suddenly, I had a computer (no internet and none in sight). Could I type? What do you know, I remembered how. Now what? Like an avalanche, suddenly (over 10 years) one story after another poured out. And now for the rest of the story…..
So many meaningful stories. Here is mine:
Spirit all but destroyed at a very young age…I hoped, prayed, and I wrote.
Larger than life, homophobic, alcoholic, violent father who cherished me…I loved him as we all did, I recognized my creativity came through him, I dreamed of a better life, and I wrote.
Immature, frustrated mum who was cruel and funny…I laughed and cried, and I wrote.
Intense jobs. 14-year marriage that wasn't meant to be with a man who was abusive…I dreamed of time to write, time to pray, time to BE…and I wrote.
Finding the love I had always longed for only to find she had a terminal illness…I prayed for healing, I hoped, I prayed for time to love my beloved, and I wrote.
Loss of my beloved life-partner…I wrote.
Out in gay in L.A., not even knowing how to BE gay…I prayed, I hoped, and I wrote.
Finding the love of my life…the dream is not a dream anymore, time to write, time to pray, and time to love my beloved one. I continue to write from years and years of stories. Little publications along the way are now turning into real collections. Oh, yes, I am writing away.
Thank you for posting. Creative "Art Spirits," do not give up. Stay compassionate, stay strong, keep writing. Peace and all good things for you in creativity and in life.
Sincerely,
Diane
I think I have witnessed the birth of an immortal quote:
I see clean light on snow. I see it and know there’s something yet to share, to say, to write. To live.
That perfectly expresses "the yearning" that comes with those moments of perfect and painful clarity. For me, they are always associated with a certain slant and quality of light which leaves me feeling as if I have just seen truth touch down in that very spot.
Thank you.
rose
Thank you for your post. As cheesy as it sounds, you really moved me.
I, too, had a plan. It was neat and precise and I was ready and raring to go with it. Let's just say that plan is currently in cinders somewhere and Life has moved me in other directions.
The only constant (other than my family) has been my love of writing. You post reminded me that it's okay to get side-tracked, plans don't always work. In fact, your post reminded me of a saying I've heard, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." Guess I'm God's favorite stand-up comic.
I have nothing … no painful story(at least none connected to writing) to talk of. Nothing came between me and my life-long dream of writing kids apart from those that will, you know, when you've ("voluntarily") spent 5 years in the pursuit of a degree of law and suddenly one day announce to all and sundry that you want to become a "writer" of kids books (I still get funny looks when I tell people that) but I have, after a lot of circumlocution, arrived here. Don't know if I'll ever get to No. 4 but life … yeah, we're ready for that! Now if only I could move beyond the "dream" stage … sigh …
Oh, by the way, almost forgot … beautiful post! You have my vote for Canada's Prime Minister too! 🙂 At least the government resolutions will be fun to read! 😀
I have nothing … no painful story(at least none connected to writing) to talk of. Nothing came between me and my life-long dream of writing for kids apart from those that will, you know, when you've ("voluntarily") spent 5 years in the pursuit of a degree of law and suddenly one day announce to all and sundry that you want to become a "writer" of kids books (I still get funny looks when I tell people that) but I have, after a lot of circumlocution, arrived here. Don't know if I'll ever get to No. 4 but life … yeah, we're ready for that! Now if only I could move beyond the "dream" stage … sigh …
Oh, by the way, almost forgot … beautiful post! You have my vote for Canada's Prime Minister too! 🙂 At least the government resolutions will be fun to read! 😀