Writing my way through the A-to-Z blogging challenge, I’ve tasked myself with throwing open the cabinet of curiosities and wondrous things I call my brain and leading you on a tour of what actually resides in there – all through the lens of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words.
W is for…
writative (adj) – marked by the desire or inclination to write; inclined to write a lot
Someone asked me the other day why I write. It’s a good question isn’t it? I write because I have things to say. Because it feels like a joy to celebrate my voice. There was a time in my life when I literally felt like I didn’t know how to write – that I had things to say but just didn’t know how to get them out. That seems so strange to me now, because I feel like I can write about anything. I’ve come home to myself and now I want to share. I want to use my words, my writing, to examine more closely, to articulate what I know, what I believe, what I’m curious about. Writing helps me find my position, writing helps me clarify, writing helps bring closure and helps open things up. Writing is fun. Writing is a gift to myself, and a gift I offer to others. Writing is an act of discipline. Writing is an act of joy. Writing is an act of connection. Writing is an act of revelation.
One of the premises of this blogging challenge was that I’d give you a glimpse at how my mind works. That you both get to see what interests me, but I also show you how I think about things. And if you’ve been following along for a few posts, you understand my world is pretty much stream-of-consciousness. And my mind has already jumped to a few things I want to share on the topic of writing.
The photo above is a page in one of my journals. And in many ways I think it provides a perfect glimpse of who I am. My art is simple. But in that one page I reveal lots about myself – I love flowers (I’m a flower essence practitioner and aromatherapist among other things); I like beading; I’m fascinated by hands; I adore paper, particularly handmade paper (the base sheet on this piece is filled with seeds and threads, which are important symbols to me); and scent is a huge part of my life (I’ve used sandalwood and ginger essential oils on the paper).
But not everything is on the surface either Just like this journal page where you have to open the hands to read what I’ve written, you might have to hang around a bit and look to know that I often write poetry on my feet; that I’ve been recording my dreams since I was a teenager; that I believe having a pair of red shoes is mandatory for my overall life happiness.
If you peek beneath the hands in my journal you’ll find this message:
It’s one of the things I most love to write about.
Jumping to another brain path, a writer friend of mine just found a typewriter she’s in love with. She’s been looking for one for some time, and now that she has one she’s ready to see what writing on one is really like.
Isn’t this vintage photo fabulous? I absolutely want a furry assistant to help with my typing.
I can totally see myself pounding out my great American mystery novel on a typewriter. Except for the fact I don’t actually want to write a mystery. But still…
I have no doubt though that my current writing efforts are aided by the fact I have a typewriter-headed angel keeping watch over things.
She might also be keeping an eye on my dreams and offering inspiration as well. Some time ago I had a fabulous typewriter dream:
My husband and I were talking about how things don’t always develop as expected. For example, weren’t all the great/terrible sci-fi movies of the 50s and 60s convinced that we’d have walking talking ready-to-do-anything, dispense-your-wishes-at-your-command robots? That hasn’t happened. True we have ever-more sophisticated computers doing way more than those tin can robots promised, but still. No robots. Things moved along a different path. We took a moment to be ever-so-slightly disappointed, but optimism kicked right back in and my husband began to wax poetic about the 3-D printers. And how if you think about it they’re way more amazing than the mind can almost bear. And as is the way of dreams, we began hunting through the house convinced we had one.
But instead of finding a printer, I found, sitting in place of my laptop, an old beat up typewriter. It had seen a lot of hard use, but it was radiating satisfaction and love, and I imagined some famous author had pounded out a lot of wonderful works on it. When I sat down and put my fingers on the keys to test it out, the first thing that popped into my head to type was “Tulips from Tupelo.” And the second I had that final o typed out, up pops a tulip from the paper carriage. I couldn’t believe it and I was so excited and delighted. So excited in fact I woke myself up.
I couldn’t resist creating an image for my dream journal.
No doubt the length of these daily posts of mine are a clear indication that I’m writative, and I’m grateful to all of you who’ve patiently waded through following my brain tracks on whatever journey they’re taking us. But now it’s your turn. Write something. Tell me why you like to write. What kind of journals do you keep? Do you love Tulips? Ever been to Tupelo. Do tell – you know I love to hear.