After all, most writing is done away from the typewriter, away from the desk. I'd say it occurs in the quiet, silent moments, while you're walking or shaving or playing a game, or whatever, or even talking to someone you're not vitally interested in."
My hands are cold, my forehead clammy and my mind restless. I am showing signs of good book deprivation.
Earlier this month, a friend sent me a book. I thought of you, she said, and I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the title — Bad Girls – or the irony. It was entertaining, funny, and a bit naughty in a good-girl goes bad for a reckless moment kind of way. But most of all, I loved that Dee enjoyed a book and thought of me.
As Christmas approaches, I want to return the favor, give books that offer comfort, laughter, guidance and tears. Books that say I thought of you.
My booklist is chocked with turning-point reads that ignited my mind, expanded my perspective and left a mark on my heart. A few favorites include:
Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, by Anne Lamott
Irreverent and real, Lamott shares her spiritual journey without being at all preachy or "religious."
Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg
The master of freewriting, Goldberg offers mental jumpstarts for writers.
Journal of a Solitude, by May Sarton
When I was younger and alone, Sarton's book affirmed my solitary choices. Nothing escapes her examination in these seemingly simple journal entries that reveal a rich interior life.
Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place, by Terry Tempest Williams
A profound metaphor of change, blending mother-daughter dynamic with a powerful and shifting Utah landscape.
Comfort me with Apples, by Ruth Reichl
A touching coming-of-age memoir by the former editor of Gourmet magazine. Even for non-foodies, this is a great read.
The Stone Diaries, by Carol Shield
A Pulitzer Prize winning novel about one woman's life. It's not the details of Daisy's life that are so riveting, but the elegant and engaging prose that makes the story so beautiful.
There are more books, of course, but as I review the list I realize I have already gifted my favorite books over the years. I need new material and I’m taking suggestions.
What books have touched, lifted or altered your heart? your life? your path? I’m eager to dive into the next great read, to sink in and savor, and to pass it on with love.
Years ago the question was this: If I write words that no one reads, am I really a writer?
Now, the question has a digital twist: If I write a blog that no one reads, am I really a writer?
“Real writers are those who want to write, need to write, have to write,” says writer/poet Robert Penn Warren.
If he is correct, a writer’s real concern is not with audience, approval and acknowledgement.
Still, the existential question of what makes a writer leads to the core of dilemma and doubt: Is anyone out there? Are we in the proverbial forest, where trees — and words — fall with a silent thud?
In this blog-age, writers are slicing the silence with long-winded whines of Read me!
It’s what every writer wants. It’s why millions of books line store shelves, why thousands of readings take place each week, and why there are zillions of blogs just like mine. Writers want to be heard, read — and here’s the greedy part — acknowledged.
See me. It’s the song of the times. And not just for writers.
It’s why 100 million people now use Facebook, and join MySpace, Twitter, LinkedIn and other social networks. We — myself included — spend countless hours distracting ourselves, stumbling through websites, sifting through blogs. We savor and sort, experience, extract, move on. We’re living in, as the New York Times says, a “brave new world of digital intimacy.”
And now the question expands: We’re all connected but to what depth?
When we share the mundane, as in Twitter’s moment-by-moment reportage and Facebook’s What are you doing right now? status reports (answer: “I am waiting for the bus”) do we really grow emotionally closer? Are we elevated, illuminated, entertained? Or do these moments of incessant contact simply increase our narcissism while distracting us from silence and reflection, the very things necessary to create books and poems and discourse to deepen our lives and counter the mindless chatter?
The genius behind Facebook, 26 year-old Mark E. Zuckerberg, has never known a world without caller ID, cellphones and Internet connection. Indeed, the young creatives driving technology today have always experienced the immediacy of online access, digital cameras and text messages. In this age of ‘digital intimacy’ genuine communication and deep connection may not be the point.
We've stepped out of the forest. We're all just screaming to be heard.
Inside this pencil
crouch words that have never been written
never been spoken
never been taught
they’re hiding
they’re awake in there
dark in the dark
hearing us
but they won’t come out
not for love not for time not for fire
even when the dark has worn away
they’ll still be there
hiding in the air
multitudes in days to come may walk through them
breathe them
be none the wiser
what script can it be
that they won’t unroll
in what language
would I recognize it
would I be able to follow it
to make out the real names
of everything
maybe there aren’t
many
it could be that there’s only one word
and it’s all we need
it’s here in this pencil
every pencil in the world
is like this
“Writing is an exploration.
You start from nothing and learn as you go.”
Thursday, December 4, 2008 at 9:33AM