A Writer's Notebook, Day Three-Hundred-And-Twenty
I am finding it difficult to write lately, as I have expressed, though I still keep to my schedule. I recognize, of course, that this is what happens, that it happened not long ago, and then shifted to a different mode, and then came back around, but that does not alter how it feels in the moment, and it does not make it any less difficult to do work in this mode.
In large part, what is upsetting about doing work in this way is the feeling that I am attempting to abandon, as discussed yesterday, that these poems may be somewhat less effective. Now, what is really funny about that is I know it is not true, or at least not universally so, as readers have responded quite strongly to poems that I have written in the recent past. In essence, I am still doing the work I should be, it is only in my mind that I am having any sort of issue.
It is absurd to think of my creativity as being in any sort of slump, as I am writing so much, but it still feels that way internally. In part, this may still be that I am wrestling with ideas and issues that came up recently as I experimented with found verse and other varieties of borrowed text. It may well be that I am still in a bit mentally backed-up, as it were, that these ideas are still being entirely broken down, and that as this occurs, other processes are held back.
There is also the possibility that I am merely entering a different phase, that some part of my creative process needed to change in order to grow and this is a byproduct of that larger shift. As I have been working so much, it is only natural that new ways of working would emerge, and it may be that I am fighting something positive that will bring my work to a new place. It is often difficult to adjust to changes, even ones that are ultimately positive, and so it is possible this is the case.
If I am completely honest, one part of what is making me a bit uneasy about the recent work is that I have not been writing a lot of the same kinds of pieces I am used to. While I don't always write narrative poems, let alone surreal narrative poems, a great many of my pieces have that quality, and I enjoy writing those kinds of pieces. Of late, it has been hard for me to get into that mental space, and I am missing that. Of course, I do not doubt that such ideas will come back. I have one that has been tickling me, but it is not yet ready, and trying to write it before it is ready has led to frustration. It is an idea that is a bit odd, on the edge of horror, almost, and is related to many ideas I've played with before, but it is somewhat delicate to explain, and even more difficult to actually get right, so I am letting it percolate. However, even knowing it is there is a reassurance that I am only in a bit of a different mode for the moment, and not permanently.
In the end, it is most likely that all of this will just pass, as it has before, and I will continue on until the next time this kind of thing happens. Of course, that is the nature of this kind of work. Creativity can be trained, but that is not to say it can be controlled. I am writing each day, and that is what I can do, but to do that requires that I accept the work I get. If I were to make myself write something each day and force it to always be a masterwork, that would be impossible, likewise if I were to force myself to always have hundreds of new ideas for poems ready to pull out of my head at any moment. I can do the act of writing each day, and can dedicate myself to applying what I know of that task, but the output is not only about that but involves so much else I can't even speculate about the reasoning at times. It may be about things going on in my life that are stressful, or about situations in the larger world, or about a lack of sleep, or about not seeing a good friend in a long time, or any of a million other things, or some combination there-of. Of course, any of those might also be the inspiration, in a moment, for a great poem, so I cannot blame anything, I can only concentrate on the fact that I am doing the work, and trust that following this path is enough.
In large part, what is upsetting about doing work in this way is the feeling that I am attempting to abandon, as discussed yesterday, that these poems may be somewhat less effective. Now, what is really funny about that is I know it is not true, or at least not universally so, as readers have responded quite strongly to poems that I have written in the recent past. In essence, I am still doing the work I should be, it is only in my mind that I am having any sort of issue.
It is absurd to think of my creativity as being in any sort of slump, as I am writing so much, but it still feels that way internally. In part, this may still be that I am wrestling with ideas and issues that came up recently as I experimented with found verse and other varieties of borrowed text. It may well be that I am still in a bit mentally backed-up, as it were, that these ideas are still being entirely broken down, and that as this occurs, other processes are held back.
There is also the possibility that I am merely entering a different phase, that some part of my creative process needed to change in order to grow and this is a byproduct of that larger shift. As I have been working so much, it is only natural that new ways of working would emerge, and it may be that I am fighting something positive that will bring my work to a new place. It is often difficult to adjust to changes, even ones that are ultimately positive, and so it is possible this is the case.
If I am completely honest, one part of what is making me a bit uneasy about the recent work is that I have not been writing a lot of the same kinds of pieces I am used to. While I don't always write narrative poems, let alone surreal narrative poems, a great many of my pieces have that quality, and I enjoy writing those kinds of pieces. Of late, it has been hard for me to get into that mental space, and I am missing that. Of course, I do not doubt that such ideas will come back. I have one that has been tickling me, but it is not yet ready, and trying to write it before it is ready has led to frustration. It is an idea that is a bit odd, on the edge of horror, almost, and is related to many ideas I've played with before, but it is somewhat delicate to explain, and even more difficult to actually get right, so I am letting it percolate. However, even knowing it is there is a reassurance that I am only in a bit of a different mode for the moment, and not permanently.
In the end, it is most likely that all of this will just pass, as it has before, and I will continue on until the next time this kind of thing happens. Of course, that is the nature of this kind of work. Creativity can be trained, but that is not to say it can be controlled. I am writing each day, and that is what I can do, but to do that requires that I accept the work I get. If I were to make myself write something each day and force it to always be a masterwork, that would be impossible, likewise if I were to force myself to always have hundreds of new ideas for poems ready to pull out of my head at any moment. I can do the act of writing each day, and can dedicate myself to applying what I know of that task, but the output is not only about that but involves so much else I can't even speculate about the reasoning at times. It may be about things going on in my life that are stressful, or about situations in the larger world, or about a lack of sleep, or about not seeing a good friend in a long time, or any of a million other things, or some combination there-of. Of course, any of those might also be the inspiration, in a moment, for a great poem, so I cannot blame anything, I can only concentrate on the fact that I am doing the work, and trust that following this path is enough.
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