Young Woman Reading, Mary Cassatt 1876 I've heard the stories/read about the method: retreats, workshops, cabins in the woods, hotel rooms, unplugging, uninstalling...all the means of self-imposed isolation in attempts to create art.
In fact, I watched a short documentary last night and learned that Van Gogh stayed in an asylum for a year because he was able to paint daily without much interruption (and it was cheaper than staying in a hotel).
Being in a (mostly) empty college town for several weeks is not the same thing--this isolation is not self-imposed, it has been forced upon me.
At least that's my non-writing excuse. Sure, there are notecards with my character names, birth and death years now in existence. Yes, I have a strong idea for the second story in my thesis...BUT...
Why am I NOT writing?
boredom? lack of stimulation? loneliness? no schedule? no deadlines?
A combination of ALL OF THE ABOVE?
Or better yet, do I have no clue as to what I am doing? Am I lacking ideas, motivation, (gulp) talent? (Only "an artist" would say such a thing, I think I'm okay.)
I'll be back in the bluff city soon enough. Maybe the Mississippi River is more responsible for my mystical arts than I realized (Mark Twain would agree).
Then I can "force" myself into isolation--which is completely different than being bored to tears...believe me.
~~J
EDIT: All I can think about now after titling this post is THIS POEM by Anne Sexton...which means you have to go read it too.
2 comments:
I'm so glad I'm not the only one not writing. Is it the lack of deadlines?? I think that's what it is for me. I'm always scared that means I'm not a real writer, that real writers love to WRITE, whereas I just love to read. We should give each other deadlines.
Since I know you, I'm going to go with the term "Summer Slump" theory.
I've already got a "plan" for a "system" with a writing partner once I get back to Memphis. But yes, DEADLINES.
I'll get back to you on it.
~~J
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