Originally Posted: September 19, 2011
Ok, I’ve got hundreds of pages now of ‘stuff,’ notes, free-writes, character exercises, rough outlines, first stabs at beginnings, and more notes… This week, I’ll start writing my first draft in earnest, which really means, I’m just going to start throwing narrative down, as fast as I can, trying not to censor too much as I go, trusting that the story will reveal its own shape…
Trusting that the story will reveal itself… The longer I work at this craft, the more I value the idea of trust—that we can relax a little if we trust we’re doing what we need to be doing. That there’s something within that guides us if we let it. I don’t mean to get too new-agey here, but truly, there is nothing that gets in the way of creativity so much as self-doubt. Nothing that gets in the way of truth so much as censure. Nothing that prevents love more than fear.
How to trust, then? How to stay open to the truth that wants to be told through you? That’s the nut I’m trying to crack, the question I’m throwing out today. The answer that comes echoing back, small but clear through my hunger and headache, my insecurity and longing and ambition, clear and calm if I allow myself to listen, is just that—to listen. To stay curious. To remember what it is to play.
When I listen to my 8-year old tell a story; she isn’t thinking so much about where it’s going or how it’s going to turn out, whether it will be good or not… She’s just telling for the joy of a good yarn. She’s enjoying getting stuff off her chest. Loving the sound of her own voice. Curious to see where she’ll go with it, wondering where it will take her. Often amazed by the emotion she can evoke within herself and others.
If we knew exactly what we were doing at the outset, then what would be left to find out? If we knew how it all ended, what would we have to disover?
So, why doesn’t this make me feel any better about not knowing the structure of my story?? Why am I still so scared?
Posted by: Dori