More musings on creatives and the creative journey.
Labor of Love

More musings on creatives and the creative journey.

There is power in stories. Hypnotic power that can keep us turning the page long past when we should have stopped to go to bed. Power to transcend the senses and conjure powerful reactions, sometimes even physical reactions. This is what I hope to replicate with my work. For now, I simply wonder at it.

Forgot my poetry notebook at home today–oops! Got back to it with a notion of writing about the visceral sensation of joy and got interrupted. Over and over. It was kind of funny actually.
Ended up helping my bride cook dinner and a question arose between us. Not a new question, an old one. One which we each have a differing opinion on: which is the priority, presentation or purpose?
That inspired today’s work, which I confess myself not particularly pleased with. I may have to come back and rework this one later. My brain’s a tad frazzled.

Didn’t start writing at my usual time today and it’s throwing me off. Here’s hoping that shifting gears to poetry will squeeze out some creative juice.

Taking a day or rest. The last week or so has been crazy. Glad to dial it down a bit today and in doing so I solved several creative issues I was having. Funny how that works.
No title for this piece yet. I’m open to suggestions.

Further thoughts on the creative process…

Thinking again about the creative process again. I watched the Oscars last night and finally completed revising my manuscript today. I cannot stop thinking about the necessity of momentum with regards to creation.
Every single artist, performer, writer and so on is called on to create again and again. The truth is that completing your project does not mark the crossing of the finish line, only a finish line. It’s onward, full steam ahead, to the next project.

Feeling better today! Not 100% yet, but still better–hence the double posting.
I was thinking today about goals, deadlines, and the inevitable transformative processes that occur throughout our lives. When do they happen? When does change actually occur within us and upon our lives in a meaningful and significant way? How do we rise to meet these changes, or not as the case may be?
My father is fond of saying that good luck is simply preparation meeting opportunity. I like this idea. I like the notion of creating our own opportunities. Being sick has made me feel like my aim is off regarding the opportunities I’ve been trying to prepare for. I was struck today by a sudden and intense sensation that change is soon to be upon me, that all that I’ve worked for is soon to reach a point of climax. Can any of us ever really be prepared for that?

Feeling a bit frustrated with my authorship today. Revising my manuscript is simultaneously rewarding, because I can tell that every change I’m making is an improvement, but also excruciating because it is taking so much longer than I meant for it to. So today’s poem is venting my love and frustration for and with my vocation.

Ever read a book or watch a movie and an explanation is given for something that makes absolutely no sense? That is to say, the explanation is simply flat out weak or stupid. In fact, if the explanation had not been given, the issue that it was trying to explain away in the first place wouldn’t even be an issue. You’d glide right past it, happily immersed in the world of the story. Then this happens, and you start to think, and the holes open up.
Sometimes things are better left alone and the world created in the hearts and minds of creator and viewer alike simply allowed to be.
