Tag Archive: creative process


Say it ain’t so

I don’t know about you, but there are times in my life when I wallow in fear rather than live in faith. I subscribe to the motto typified in the musical the Wiz where the character sings, “Don’t bring me no bad news.”

I’ve been throwing up a lot lately and it has me concerned. Something like seven out of the last ten days within fifteen minutes of waking up I have to race to the bathroom to visit the porcelain God, and dry heave what little water is left in my stomach from the night before. This morning I was driving in my car to get my morning java when I had to abruptly pull over to the side of the road, and now, after seven days of vomiting, my voice is kind of hoarse. So I screwed up my courage and made an appointment to see my doctor today.

I don’t drink alcohol, and I don’t smoke, so in reality it’s probably a case of end of school term nerves, but now I need to schedule an appointment with a Gastroenterologist to make sure my system is still in good working order.

My doctor put me on Protonix, a cousin of Prevacid, but stronger, apparently, and I’m hoping to stop the excess acid production in my stomach. I said, half jokingly, mock serious, “I hope I don’t have stomach cancer.”

“Don’t even say that,” the receptionist cautioned me. It’s almost as though if you give voice to your underlying fears, that somehow might make them come true. People don’t want to hear the “C” word, nor do they want to confront the uncomfortable reality that some people die before their time. A good friend of mine who used to be head librarian at my local library is bravely battling brain cancer, and the longterm prognosis is in months, not years, although she has survived over a year already.

I still want to write my first, second, and third full length novels, and I don’t feel ready to die, but I get nervous that the “best laid plans of mice and men” are going to go astray and that I’m going to be thwarted in my ambitions.

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I deserve good things happening to me. I think we’re so conditioned to believe that life is supposed to be a struggle that we don’t want to admit that we have been blessed, truly blessed beyond belief. I have great people in my life, including a support group that includes my mother’s cousin who loves me dearly and whom I love in return equally, and many other friends and family members.

The truth is: life is good, and I’m looking forward to creating many more meaningful days before I head into the western sunset. Just keep me out of the doctor’s waiting rooms please.

Advertisements

The Idea Machine

Andy Rooney said it best: “I sit down at my typewriter, or my computer now, and I damn well decide to have an idea. That’s how you get an idea. They do not strike you very often in the middle of the night or when you’re doing something else. . .Ideas are amorphous, but you have to work on having one. The don’t just come out of the blue.”

Today I celebrate six years sober, six years since I last fell down drunk. It’s hard for me to take in that six years ago I traded Budweiser and gin and tonics for a life lived deliberately.

The reason this is relevant to Andy Rooney is that a little over six years ago I had this dream of becoming a writer, this vision of putting one word after another on paper until I had produced a novel, but nothing was getting done. I worried that if I quit drinking, I would no longer be creative, but the hard facts bore out a different truth. Many people out there can have one or two drinks, then sit down at their computer and write. That wasn’t my reality. I had big dreams, but nothing was being done to achieve them.

I’m not saying that everything has been easy since I quit drinking. I still haven’t finished that novel yet, but I have made significant progress. I have also started a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing program at Northwestern University a little over a year ago. It’s been baby steps, but to me baby steps are better than no steps at all.

None of this would have been possible had I been drinking, of that I am sure. For that reason, if for no other, today is an important day for me. There’s that old saying: Do the footwork and leave the results up to God. And Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, says it a different way: “Leap, and the net will appear.” So now, even though it isn’t New Year’s Eve, I renew my commitment to my creativity, and renew my commitment to finishing my novel this coming year.

Wish me luck, if you’re so inclined.

Ruminations on Gatsby

I just ran across this quote from the Great Gatsby, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and thought it was especially appropriate during this holiday season:

“Let us show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead”

Time to fess up. I’m a huge fan of Charlie Brown. So many memorable moments captured on the little screen. For an animated cartoon, Peanuts speaks volumes about the way to find your way in the world.

I’ll always remember the time Charlie Brown went Trick-or-Treating, and his famous complaint, “All I got was a rock.” This lesson can be applied across the board, the whole adage when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

I’m terminally single, it seems, but I make plenty of lemonade. My philosophy is: “I’m looking for someone who laughs more than he complains.”

But I digress.

Easter. The day when a particular, world-changing dead man named Jesus Christ rose, in preparation for his ascendency and the salvation of the world entire. Popular opinion has it that Jesus was the only perfect man, the only man without earthly sin, yet I’ve wondered if this could possibly be true, in particular in light of his final words, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” Turns out, apparently, that doubting God or the presence of God isn’t in itself a sin. Think of the trials and tribulations of Job.

Easter, then, is a way to celebrate God’s promise that He will always be there for us.

Happy Easter, everyone, and as Tiny Tim proclaimed, “God Bless Us, Everyone.”

Two favorite quotes of Oscar Wilde:

“Either this wallpaper goes or I do.”

“It’s better to be talked about than not to be talked about.”

Remember this is by the playwright of “The Importance of Being Ernest.”