I am taking a creative recovery retreat. Or, more accurately, I am retreating into the creative. I'm not going out of town or cancelling my clients. I am simply and radically making space every day to finish my novel. Or start it. Again. I am committing to show up at the door of what Butler calls my dream space. I figure if I keep coming to the door and knocking on it, it will open again. There may be a special knock, but I haven't found that yet. I'm just going to the secret cave entrance every day, because you can never get inside if you aren't even at the right door.
For me the creative is one and the same as the spiritual. It is not born of logic and rational thinking. I will not get far thinking of fame and fortune, or even of writing a good book. I am recommitting to the process of creating a work of fiction. This commitment is much like one to mediation and prayer; it is the act, the process, the certain alignment of my heart to the universe that makes the commitment not only worthwhile, but essential.
I am taking things apart to create something new. I am taking apart my assumptions about what makes me a writer (an audience), so I can rediscover the reason I loved writing when I was in third grade: to tell stories, to make some order of sensual and emotional chaos; because I believe our lives have a shape and purpose in the smallest, daily ways; because I love being alive and I have always been compelled to capture the myriad reasons for that love.
This is something that takes courage, commitment and faith. Each day, as I show up to the page, I am increasingly convinced that this process is essential to becoming my best self. The struggle to write fiction brings me face to face with deepest enemies (self doubt, laziness, fear, distractions) and helps me not only face them but come to love them, too. Because without these saboteurs I would not know how important faith is. The alternative is not acceptable: saying, 'I once wanted to write a book' or 'Maybe I could have written a book' is to not have lived life to its fullest. The only failure would be not to try. So let it begin. Let it continue.
If you don't see me here, it's because I've gained admittance to the most important, mysterious place I know: my own imagination. Wish me luck.
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I wish you much luck. May your creative juices flow freely! I look forward to reading your novel.
ReplyDeleteHaving come to this a few weeks later, I am wondering and hoping whether/that you've gained admittance? I'm so glad you're still willing to knock on the door.
ReplyDeleteYes, and so much more! Some days are harder than others, but the door opens easier and wider each time. I do believe I'm supposed to go inside, so I keep going forward with this faith.
DeleteI see a bit of a parallel here with your recent article on clearing things out of your closet. Metaphor is everywhere, isn't it? Keep the faith, Susan.
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