A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Sixty-Three

It is a constant, and being self-aware of it makes it no less true, though a tad ironic, but again I am in a bit of doubt about the direction of my current work.  I do feel I understand it, really, and I think it is much like what I was describing yesterday.  It feels to me that I am currently, perhaps, relying too much on the newer aspects of my work, not bringing the full power of what I have done in the past.

This is not identical to the issue I had discussed yesterday, but I do think it shares the same underlying pattern.  In this case, I am writing a great many poems that I am finding fit certain more familiar aspects with my past work, but I am noticing that the smaller levels of the work are not reflecting elements that I would like to see more of again.  For example, I am not writing certain types of details as fluently at the moment.

Now, I think this is, again, just a step in the process of learning.  At the moment, some of the new ideas I have are not fully formed, and I am still working to discover how various techniques work together.  As well, I am expanding the range of my work, excavating new possibilities for what I am open to doing in my writing.  All of the new things that are going on, of course I am still adjusting, learning to balance all of it together, and it makes sense that what I am most secure in, what I don't need to learn to do and have done for years, is not all coming through.  It may seem counter-intuitive, but in this case, because I am focusing on expanding my abilities as a poet, these newer elements are taking priority.  I've reached a degree of familiarity with them, but not so much that I can see how it all fits together yet.  Slowly, I am sure those possibilities will become clear.

All of this is rational to me.  I've had experiences in the past that reflect this pattern; yesterday, I wrote about coming through that very thing.  Yet, it does not change the fact that I feel, at times, a bit lost as a result of this.  Their are tools that feel a bit out of reach at the moment, in some way, though it is more as if I don't really know they exist while writing.  I mean, the process of creating a poem often requires me to be in the moment, so I don't want to step back and consider the exact technique in that particular way.  It feels inorganic to do that, for me.  I might go back and work things into a revision, but that is a different matter.  

Right now, as I consider all of this, I know full well that I am in a good place with my work, that I am progressing in many ways.  I feel fulfilled to know that I am creating poetry each day, and I am excited by the work I am doing.  Still, at times, when I am starting to actually write, all of that can vanish and I can feel that I don't have any idea what I am doing.  I think, though, that may be a necessary part, that this feeling accompanies taking the creative risks necessary in making any type of art.