A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Forty-Two

I am tired of hearing that there are no new ideas or new stories.  For one thing, I don't think it is a particularly useful thing to consider, even if it is true.  If I can't think of anything that is truly new, I can still think of things that are new to me, or that feel new.  I don't disagree with the idea that it is not necessary for an idea or story to be truly new in order for it to be of value, but that is not the same thing at all.  Why prescribe limits on what can be?  At best, it is just a trite saying, and at worst, it builds a box within which one must play.  Assuming all the ideas already exist, I am certain that I don't know them all, so even if it is true, that does not mean that buying into the idea isn't still limiting.  If I am certain that all the ideas have been thought up before, I am not going to look for anything different than what I know exists, which is already a subset of all the possible ideas that exist in this scenario.  

The real truth is, though, I don't get it because it necessities a limit on the number of possible ideas.  English, as with any language has a limited number of words, and those words have limits on their usage, rules that reduce the number of options for their assembly, and yet, I am fairly certain that I can write new sentences which are not the same as those another person would write.  Sure, some of my sentences will be more or less similar to others that already existed before I created them, and I may, on occasion, stumble into verbiage that is identical to another's, but I would never suggest that every sentence has already been written; indeed, that assertion would seem patently absurd, at least to me.  I think ideas are more numerous than words, and have far fewer rules on how to craft them.  How could a limit on the number of new ideas exist, and if is such a limit is impossible, if the number is truly infinite, how can their not be more to discover?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: Neighborhood Inhabitants

Neighborhood Inhabitants There was a fox once, and another time, otters, and now a peacock that we think got lost during one of the storms. She stays down on the other end of the street, though, does not visit us. We have a racoon family that stays in our tree some nights, and there is a baby lizard, a brown basilisk, who we have seen several times. It is not supposed to be here, is invasive and troublesome to the local ecosystem, as are the duck.  I hear there are giant snails now who eat stucco or concrete or something of that sort. I have not seen one, though, I just heard they are here and big as my fist.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seventy-Three

I am still finding it difficult to get back to a more productive work schedule at the moment.  In part, I am sure it is that I gave myself permission to slack off a bit, and it is difficult to walk that back, especially because I am still writing and being productive, even if not to the same degree. I know it would be good to get back to doing more writing, but I also know that I am still meeting my core obligations, even if at a more minimal level.  Really, I just need to make the choice and force myself to stick to it.  To that end, I am planning to at least get back to work on my longer projects again tomorrow, even if I don't increase the poetry output right away.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Three

I received my acceptance to attend workshop at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival next year and am very excited to be working with Matthew Olzmann, a poet whose work I have admired for some time.  He has a rare capacity for being simultaneously absurd and serious in ways that are hysterical, but with devastating insights underneath.  I feel quite fortunate to have the PBPF, and can say, honestly, that each workshop I have attended there has been incredible.  As a person who has taken many workshops in my life, and who often finds them wanting, I am always astounded at the caliber of the classes at the festival, both in the instruction and in the community of poets I have encountered.  I only wish it could be more than just one week out of the year.
Read more