I lost a week on the front yard project last week, and I nearly lost another this week by not doing anything on it this weekend. I fixed that today. I started moving the big, heavy stuff. There’s several inches of mulch in the front planter-thing, several inches of earth underneath that, and then the concrete retainer blocks will need to be moved as well. It’s heavy, hard work. But, if I can break it up into small stints, I can do it all myself. I made progress today, and it pleases me to look at it.
In Dan Simmons’ “Writing Well” blogs, I read a couple passages today that brought tears to my eyes. The first was about how writers of fiction cannot also be essayists or polemicists or pundits. We ought to be unwilling to stand for anything except Story; when we allow anything else in, the writing becomes teacherly. It loses its power. The magic of Story is how it moves in our unconscious, how it catches our breath and makes our hearts beat faster. Essays have their place, certainly, but they are not Stories. I think the tears came because I believe in that wholeheartedly. Stories can be—are always, in fact—about very, very important things, but they are NOT classroom lessons. They go so far beyond that, so much deeper, so much more personal. So if you have something powerful to say, say it from your own heart, and not from a lectern.
The second was about what he calls “irresponsibility,” which is to say, never growing up…but maturing so that one can write about childhood, and have that wonder and awe about the world. No child can write about childhood. We don’t have the insight to do so, the maturity. And so it’s a magical thing when a writer is able to reach back to that time and capture a truth there.
I strongly STRONGLY believe in both of these points. Dan also talks about “strangeness” and “style,” and I worry deeply I don’t have any of those. But I do have irresponsibility. And I do command intelligence to a certain degree…at least among my peers—I know I have sooooo much to learn from my betters. And I won’t give up. I’ll try as hard as I can and see where that leaves me.
Stories are the great obsession of my life. I know that now.
Night night.