When we are unsure,

…we are alive. – Graham Greene

Tomorrow begins NaNoWriMo, and today I learnt an important lesson:  it is okay not to know.  I do not know what will happen as I begin to write my story.  Yes, I have outline.  Yes, I have been reading various books on novel writing.  Yes, I feel passionately about my ideas thus far.  The fact, however, still remains that the moment my fingers strike the keyboard; tapping out words to form images, tapping out words to create feeling, tapping, tapping; it means I let go of my control.  I let go of the safe thoughts that have been circulating in my mind about what my story is or what it ought to be.  I place myself at the mercy of my imagination and my subconscious.  Is this scary?   Heck, yes!  It conjures images of failure of all types, and failing is something I fear greatly.  This is what I realized also today.  I fear failure, which goes hand-in-hand with my fear of not knowing.

It is okay not to know.  I write those words to remind myself that I am capable of being a good parent to myself, capable enough to allow myself humanity.  There are often times when I surrender to not knowing the future, not remembering the past, not being in the present.  Now, I surrender to not knowing myself in my entirety.  It is okay not to know.

This is my mantra starting tonight.  The last three weeks have been something akin to internal hell with a body that was failing me, a mind that was frustrating me with old expectations that echo from words spoken by people in the past:  there is no room for failure, 99% is not enough.   Still, even after thirty-four years, the drive for perfection in so very many things continues to present in my waking steps, perhaps too in my dreams .  It is okay not know, perhaps never to know.  I am a living being.  I am not static.  I am dynamic, ever-changing, ever embracing the process of life.

I remind myself now that there is nothing for which to ask forgiveness, and perhaps there never will be as long as I am trying my very best.  Some days I will achieve 100%.  Some days I will achieve 50%.  There are only two points: to live and to write.  Perhaps it is to live through writing.

It’s time to begin NaNoWriMo! 😉  Good luck, everyone!

Best,

D.

the small things…and my mother’s words

Found on Tumblr (File name: tumblr_lxk4ytehyo1qzuyz3o1_500.png)

I am listening to Vivaldi‘s Four Seasons: Summer.  I did this last night as well.  I enjoy the Four Seasons in its entirety, but it is Summer that makes me yearn to reach for a life that is beyond the moments that are painful for me.  For me pain, I realise, acts as a barrier.  It shuts out my desires, my thoughts, and thus my words.  The mind contained with the brain contained within the body then no longer belongs to me.  It belongs to my pain.  Why write about this today? Well, the title says it all.  The small things in life make whatever pain I may  be experiencing seem insignificant.  I am reminded that it is temporary.  That like the music of Vivaldi, I, too, will have my crescendo after this prolonged but momentary decrescendo–this is the nature of all things in life.  We fall to rise, rise to fall.  I am not so different than anyone else.  Simply, my pain functions to punctuate the music of my life.  It brings me back down to see the world from a place of quietness…stillness even. Slowly, the music of my life is building once again.  It is a lovely thought.

(How amazing is this violinist exactly?  Yes, I am in-love…You ought to be too)
My Mother…
is an amazingly talented, hardworking, forthright, and beautiful lady.  It’s that simply.  Were I to study for the rest of my life, my knowledge could never amount to that which she possesses. Well, she and I spoke last night for the first time in about two weeks–I have a tendency to hide myself away when I am ill–and she shared with two very important things:
She told me stories about her childhood and her relationship with my grandfather, and even about my great-grandfather.
She told me also to stop hiding myself (i.e. my writing)–this kind of statement may seem strange given that I have a fairly public life (ahem, this blog, etc.).
The second point she mentioned to me after I had read to her some of my new poetry and an essay I wrote about my grandfather.  Now, one might say, Well, mothers say this kind of thing.  Well, not my mother.  She doesn’t say anything unless she absolutely means.  Her honesty is undeniable.  You can count her to tell you what’s up.  She sees it as her duty to help others see where they can improve.  Thus, you can imagine how wonderful it was for me to hear my mother tell me that my new writing was worthwhile and worthy for publication.  🙂  Yeah, I was like Yay!  Go me!

So, where does this leave me.  Well, simply that I feel more energized to write.  The question mark of am-I-good-writer that is sometimes looming largely over my head is quite diminished.  Now the question is what steps should I take to get published.  Hmm?  It seems easier said than done.

Anyone have any thoughts on the benefits of self-publishing poetry?  Or submitting essays? Well, do share if you do.  In the interim, I will be making my own investigations.
Also, I’ve just signed of for NaNoWriMo (Noational Novel Writing Month).  So, please, light a fire under me if you see my word count not increasing once I start.  Start day is November 1st and my username is diemblake. 🙂
Until Next Time!
Best,
D.