The Artist’s Way: Week Five, Post Two

I used to think that I was a weirdo because I needed so much alone time. (I think my family thought I was a weirdo, too.)

Being in silence while puttering around is very relaxing to me. You will never find me cooking/painting/writing/reading/working/etc. with the TV on. I get noise assaulted very easily, and coming home to a house full of noise (even happy ones) makes my skin crawl.

I thought I was the only one who felt this way, and that it was a sign that I was anti-social (which I think I am to a certain extent—meeting new people is an AWKWARD experience for me). But, when I read this chapter, I realized that there are a bunch of us out there! Comrades!

“An artist must have downtime, time to do nothing… For an artist, withdrawal is necessary… An artist requires the upkeep of creative solitude. An artist requires the healing of time alone” (pgs. 96-97).

These sentences leaped off the page and hit me between the eyes. That’s me!

Creative solitude should be my middle name!

Now, this doesn’t give me the excuse to drop all my responsibilities, draw the blinds, and never speak to another soul. (I wouldn’t want to do that, anyway.) But, it does make me realize that I need solitude weekly, and to accept that about myself.

If I ignore this need, then I am ignoring who I am. (And that’s when I find myself miserable.)

Julia asks a question in this chapter that I’d like to pose to you: “Are you destructive of your true nature?”

Dismissing my need for creative solitude was a way I was destructive to my true nature. (And even when I had moments of solitude, I would be guilt-ridden and beat myself up about it. Not a fun way to live!)


So, can you think of any way you are destructive of your true nature?



UP NEXT: Week Five Exercises!



P. S. Here’s a creative exercise that wasn’t in the book, but that I’ve been playing with the last few days.

It’s a way to jump-start your creativity.

What you do is take your full name (I also included “miss” for some extra letters) and write each individual letter on a little square piece of paper (They should all be the same size.). Now, mix up all the letters, and spend 10 minutes coming up with as many words you can. (In 10 minutes, I came up with 76 words.) Then take the word(s) that interest(s) you and write about it (them).

I decided to use only the words I came up with to write a few poems. Here’s one of them:

I sit on

Sallow sill.

White air,

Still.

Between billow

Or boom,

I float

Within.

It’s a really fun way to break through a creative block. Give it a try!

Hi, do you remember me?

So, despite my best intentions and efforts to make it otherwise, it seems that announcing my plans to the world of posting a weekly poem has crushed my creativity under the weight of fear.

Seriously folks, the well has run dry.

Even when I tell myself that I can write a poem and just not post it, I still clam up—or self-edit so greatly that my original idea becomes a bland piece of junk.

This has weighed heavily on my mind.

I want to improve. I want feedback. But, I’m not sure if a blog is the answer.

So, the next question becomes, what to do with it?

Should I morph it into something else?

I have been thinking of expanding the purpose of my blog from dealing only (or mainly) with poetry, to dealing with anything I do of a creative nature.

I mean, I do mixed media art, maybe I should post pictures of my latest work?

I participate in ATC (Artist Trading Cards). Maybe I should show you what series I’m working on?

I’m trying to get my freelance career started. Maybe I should give updates, and track my progress?

I’m starting to write another book. Maybe I should talk about that, and post some stuff?

Or, maybe I should just hit “delete blog” and be done with it?

I don’t know. I’m still thinking on it.

I only know that every time I announce something on a blog, I seem to lose interest it or feel a deep sense of crapdom.

What do you think that says about me?

Hmm…

P.I.Y.P. Day: The Results

So, did you put a poem in your pocket yesterday, read it constantly, and share it with others?

No?

Did you at least think about a poem?

No?

Did the word “poetry” ever cross your mind?

No?

That’s okay.

You can give it another shot next year. I’ll remind you, don’t you worry!

Do you want to know how it went with me?

No?

Well, I’m going to tell you anyway!

The poem I chose is by one of my favorite poets of all time, W.B. Yeats.

When You are Old is the first poem I ever memorized for no other reason than love. When I heard it, I knew I had to make it a part of me.

So, I buckled down one night about ten years ago, and read it over and over again until I could say the words with my eyes closed. And it’s been with me ever since.

Anyway, Wednesday night I decided that I would make copies of the poem and pass it out to all my co-workers (since I lacked the courage or desire to stand on a soapbox in the middle of the university and recite it out loud).

Then, yesterday morning, I made my rounds and handed out the poem. I had quite a variety of responses. Most simply seemed surprised, and stammered a “Thank you.” (Boy, that was a great alliteration sentence, wasn’t it?)

But, a few reacted differently:

1. One co-worker looked at me like he thought I expected five bucks in return. (I told him no payment was necessary, words are free.)

2. One said “Oh, I don’t have a poem for you!” (That made me laugh--Like we’re on some sort of poetry barter system.)

3. One sent me an email telling me how much the poem meant to her, and that she loved it.

4. One gave me a big hug.

5. One said I was so thoughtful to think of her and seemed really touched.

6. One pulled me aside and explained to me what she thought the poem meant, and then asked me if she was right. (I told her that, usually, any interpretation could be correct.)

7. One co-worker came in late (so I had just left it on her desk) and I heard her say “Who left me this poem? What a great way to start the day!”

Overall, the first national Poem In Your Pocket day was a great success for me!!

I loved being able to share some beautiful words with people I see every day and to give them an opportunity to pause, read, and think (if only for a minute) about the wonder of words.

So, get ready for next year! It’s a great way to liven up an ordinary work day, I promise!!

Come On, Fill Your Pockets With Words…

In case you haven’t heard, tomorrow is a very special day. And I’m asking you, as a friend, to consider participating in it.

There isn’t much you have to do.

In fact, for a poor lazy person, it’s an ideal challenge. You don’t have to run a marathon, donate thousands of dollars, or give up hours of free time.

No, all you have to do tomorrow is pick a poem, any poem, and put it in your pocket.

That’s it.

If you want to go the “second mile,” make a few copies of it, and pass them out to others. But, really, I’ll I’m asking you to do is to put a poem in your pocket. (Even if it’s only a few lines.)

You see, tomorrow is the first national Poem in Your Pocket Day!!!!!! And I think it is a super cool idea!

If you don’t have a favorite poem, or a favorite poet, the website I linked to provides plenty of options in pocket-sized versions. So, download one, print it, and put it in your pocket.

And then when you have a few spare moments tomorrow, whip it out, and read it. And if you’re feeling really brave, share it with someone!! (I'm planning on giving a copy to all of my co-workers.)

Actually, I’d love for you to share your choice with me! So, come back here and post your poem in the comments (if you want). And I’ll post mine!

Let’s make the first national Poem in Your Pocket Day a great success, and get the word out about words!!!

I Like to Pretend I'm a Poet

So, I haven’t completely forgotten about this blog. No, it’s been hovering over my head, constantly raining down failure.

But, in an attempt for Present Liz to keep a promise Past Liz made to Future Liz, I’m reviving my commitment to the initial premise of this blog, and am going to begin posting again. And I’m going to try not to be negative about it all (which is harder than I think it would be to dig to China).

With that, I’ll proceed with the purpose of this post.

As some of you may know it’s National Poetry Month (NPM). And I’ve been receiving a poem-a-day from 3 different websites. I’ve enjoyed opening up my email and being surrounded in words—some that have resonated with me, and some that have made me say “Huh?”

This is why I love poetry. It makes me ponder. It makes me cry. It makes me want to be better. It makes me look at the world differently. To me, all poetry (even the bad ones) is worthwhile.

So, I wanted to share (with the two of you) a little bit of new stuff coming out of aspiring (and a few established) poets. The university I work for has a writing program, and in honor of NPM, they published "Poetry Sleepover.” Basically, it’s an online literary magazine. They had poets submit whatever they wanted, and then over a period of 24 hours, they selected, edited, and published this online version.

(I submitted a brief poem modeled after one of my favorite poems by Ezra Pound and they selected it.)

If you have a minute or ten, read through a couple of the poems. There’s a great variety of different styles and topics. Something for everyone!

And, if you have a few more minutes to spare, why don’t you write a poem of your very own in support of NPM? It doesn’t have to be anything spectacular. Trust me on that. I’m an expert at non-spectacular-ness.

Yay for words!!!*



*Tomorrow I'll be posting a special request. So, stay tuned!

My Mind--The Problem

Here's the thing: it's week one, and I'm a failure...

I don't know how else to say it.

I've been trying to write a poem all week and all I have are bits and pieces of phrases that I like, but can't use.

And why can't I use them?

Because they have to do with God/religion. And so, for the purposes of my chapbook for grad. school, they are useless.

I hate having to conform to fit in. But, it's the truth. If I have poems that deal with God as a real "entity" (as my professor puts it), I will be hard pressed to be taken seriously as a poet, and it will be even harder to get into a graduate program.

I could write about god, but not God (if you understand what I mean). And for some reason, that's the only poetry coming out of me.

So, I have nothing new to post here, and I suck.

With that, here's an acrostic poem for your perusal. I wrote it last month.

Sacred space
Approaches my soul.
Covenants broken by sin,
Renewed by blood and body.
Anguish replaced by peace as
Minutes visit paradise, and
Eternity slips into spirit.
Now, I am whole.
The Lord is with me.



This is the kind of stuff that's coming out of me, and I'm going to have to figure out a way to break away from it (at least for the time being).


Any suggestions?