To be completely honest, I’m loving the slower, less pressured pace of
writing for NaNoWriMo. I’m not working to get ahead yet. Instead, I’m writing
the minimum and then spending my time reading on writing and in my genre, and
it feels really peaceful.
Along with reading Jane Eyre for inspiration, I’m also working through
‘Bird By Bird – Some Instructions on Writing and Life’ by Anne Lamott. First of
all I recommend it because she is a hilarious writer. You read each sentence
and think ‘yup, that was the best possible way that sentence could have been
written’.
So, moving on from Ray Bradbury, I’m going to share some wisdom from
Anne Lamott today.
One thing she just mentions in her introduction that gave me food for
thought, and inspiration, was on the benefits of being a writer (rather than
just writing).
(P. xii)
‘One of the gifts of being a writer is that it gives you an excuse to
do things, to go places and explore. Another is that writing motivates you to
look closely at life, at life as it lurches by and tramps around.’
It is one of those things you might have realized early on, one of the things
that drew you to writing. It is something I knew, and even have commented on here,
but still need to be reminded every once and again.
I remember when I was about 15 I was staying with my godmother (whom I
loved dearly) but got dragged along to the Annual General Meeting of the
Farmers Association (or some such). It was held in the small town’s pub and
included dinner and lots of speeches. The only way I agreed to go (not holding
out much hope for my godmother’s suggestion that perhaps there would be cute
boys there) was if I could take my pad and paper with me.
I sat through the meeting describing the people around me. They really
were very easy as it was almost as if they were caricatures rather than normal
human beings, and my descriptions could only add more depth and character. I
also noted down the conversations around me, though I felt rather bad about
this because it was eavesdropping, and eavesdropping because I thought they
were amusing. However, it made what would otherwise have been an extremely
boring, lonely night, something of a game.
I was actually pretty pleased with myself when at one point in the
evening a man asked me if I was a reporter. Why a reporter would bother to come
to this meeting was beyond me, but I took it as a compliment that I looked like
a real writer.
If I had gone there without my pen and paper, I would have just been a
loner, out of place in a crowd. But give me my tools and I have purpose. My
silence and isolation is to only better my great work.
So what I suppose I’m trying to say is that the curse of being a writer
is that you spend lots of time alone. The gift of being a writer is that you
never have to be lonely.
