This is what usually happens - I write in notebooks. Every day. A lot. Don't ask me how many words. I'd rather write them than count them. There's usually one main book and one tiny pocket book that receive everything as and when.
Streams of consciousness, ramblings, personal rantings, ideas for new pieces, names of books to read, little sketches, observations, extra bits for bigger works in progress, ridiculous questions to myself that I never seem to answer, not in words, anyway, writing that I scribble in the middle of the night and struggle to make sense of in the morning. You get the drift. What they also contain, if you can bear to trawl through them, are fledgling pieces that ran out of the pen when I was lost in some wonderful semi-conscious flow, lost in the moment. Sometimes radiant, sometimes ridiculously bold, they hide in haystacks of words. And sometimes, I lose them.
Attempts to work in more organised or logical ways make for BIG trouble. And over the years, I've come to see that me and my muse like this disorganised way best. But the task of re-reading completed volumes is often left to one side for too long and it makes me sad that the sparks have faded by the time I return.
April brings Napowrimo and although I don't post a poem on my blog every day, I do use the month as an exercise in keeping more on task with where these little ideas are. The coloured pens and post-it notes come out and I collect a piece from each day in a separate simple notebook with only 30 pages, rewrite the bits that sing out, each on their daily page.
Each year, the April pages have generated some of my most interesting work, some of which has found success with readers, audiences and even judges. Thousands of people creating poetry around the world seems to work a little bit of magic. Last April was a particularly strong one.
This April seems to have begun without me, so I'm about to take a deep breath and begin to sift through a 5 day haystack and see what I can find.
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The picture is from one of the glass panels etched by Hector Whistler at Liverpool's Philharmonic Hall
7 comments:
I love this idea Annie - of sifting the gold. Of finding the precious bit that sings. Of honouring your words and your work. I'm sure April will have lots of shiny moments. Enjoy!
I love the thought of notebooks bulging with words. In my mind's eye I have a picture of fledgling pieces teetering on the edge just before flight. All the best with your April gathering, Annie.
you have described how I paint -your scribbles in wee books are my scribbles on a painting surface, 'streams of consciousness, ramblings, personal rantings', all describe how I paint - we create in similar ways, just using different mediums - the creative life runs on parallel lines, no? such a good post and now time for Napowrimo again?, wow, that came fast!! xo
Oh good, I'll be looking for these gems found in your haystack!
Hi Fiona. Thanks - I'd never thought of it as sifting for gold. That's a far more positive image than how I usually see it!! So, I'll keep your words in mind each day. Thanks.
Hi Robyn. Sometimes, I seem to write in such a frenzy that I can hardly read the words and the writing doesn't look like mine, exactly the kind of words that could take flight!! That's a gorgeous image as well. Thanks.
Hi Jeane. I know!! I've seen you on your little films that I just love!! All part of the same thing, isn't it? Definitely parallel tracks. Same happens when I'm playing music, although that has a public side, of course, where you need to engage with the audience. Time flies. I am always playing catch up. Ax
Hi Mary Ann. Thanks. I'd better get cracking, then!!
I do not write as much as you do in my notebooks, but I do have small ones in my purse and several of them in my studio and around the house... I refuse to switch to my iPhone and iPad...
Hi Donna. Thanks for dropping by. Notebooks in every room!! I don't find the screen as inviting for my first ramblings as a pen and paper. I love my Mac for editing and later stages of work and for recording music, but not for those precious first meanderings. I like to walk without "luggage" as well, so the phone gets to stay home alone. I pretend it's my secretary.
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