Writing as a Way of Healing

I have been rereading Louise DeSalvo‘s Writing as a Way of Healing. The first time I read this book, I bought extra copies and handed it out to friends. No interesting conversations resulted, which I think means that no one read it…so I’m here again, this time virtually handing out copies.

I’ve underlined a gazillion passages, like this one:

This book is an invitation for you to use the simple act of writing as a way of reimagining who you are or remembering who you were. To use writing to discover and fulfill your deepest desire. To accept pain, fear, uncertainty, strife. But to find, too, a place of safety, security, serenity, and joyfulness, to claim your voice. To tell your story. And to share the gift of your work with others and, so, enrich and deepen our understanding of the human condition. (9)

Or this:

I didn’t know that if you want to write, you must follow your desire to write. And that your writing will help you unravel the knots in your heart. I didn’t know that you could write simply to take care of yourself, even if you have no desire to publish your work. I didn’t know that if you want to become a writer, eventually you’ll learn through writing — and only through writing — all you need to know about your craft. And that while you’re learning, you’re engaging in soul-satisfying, deeply nurturing labor. I didn’t know that if you want to write and don’t, because you don’t feel worthy enough or able enough, not writing will eventually begin to erase who you are. (31)

Or this:

For our writing to be healing, we must encounter something that puzzles, confuses, troubles, or pains us. (93)

There is so much more here. DeSalvo has read widely in the lives of various writers (she is a biographer) and in psychological studies in order to explain her discoveries and insights into how we must write in order to heal. A key idea for me is that keeping a journal isn’t helpful if it is only complaint. One must link memories to feeling in order to get the full benefit.

Well, one must read the book.

DeSalvo has a blog, too — Writing a Life — which I am also happy to recommend.

Protect your time…

Be A Good Steward of Your Gifts

Be a good steward of your gifts. Protect your time. Feed your inner life. Avoid too much noise. Read good books, have good sentences in your ears. Be by yourself as often as you can. Walk. Take the phone off the hook. Work regular hours.

JANE KENYON (1946-1995)

Photo by William Abranowicz

 

 

 

 

Aporia

P1040277I was working on a poem this morning, an old poem with the title “Aporia,” which means, in rhetoric, the expression of a doubt or question, but can be seen, imagistically, as a kind of log-jam and exactly the place where one should focus her attention and efforts. Something I’ve written about here before. Feeling stuck (nice, huh?) I drifted onto the internet, and I came across this quote. (Thanks to Gretchen Rubin.)

“The serious problems in life, however, are never fully solved. If ever they should appear to be so it is a sure sign that something has been lost. The meaning and purpose of a problem seem to lie not in its solution but in our working at it incessantly. This alone preserves us from stultification and petrification.” -Carl Jung

So, back to the poem, not (this time) to solve its problems, but to sit with them and see what else they may offer.

Imagine that You Are Dying

P1050357A friend sent me an email yesterday taking me to task for not telling y’all where I am in my novel-writing process:

“No one reading your blog would ever suspect that you have accomplished a major milestone of your writing career. Over the past 7-8 months, you have successfully restructured and completed a major novel. You now have merely minor polishing left to do. How much credit do you suppose you deserve for that?  Tremendous credit!”

I told her, “But it’s taken me SO LONG! It’s EMBARRASSING!”

She didn’t let me get away with it. It takes as long as it takes, she said. How long does it take for a tree to grow? And who was teaching full-time until two years ago? Who has three daughters? And other stuff? And kept writing poems (too)?

So, here I am, telling you where I am in the process. I have a printed-out reader’s copy all marked up with last-run-through, mostly small edits (only three chapters with slightly more major cuts still needed). I have typed in these changes to the first fifty pages, and after a little time playing amid the poems intend to get back to it. (I feel the need for a breather.) Over the past week, I wrote a synopsis and cover letter and sent it to an agent who was recommended highly to me. If need be, I’ll send it to 10 — or 20, or 50 — more.

On a journey of this length friends are necessary.

This quote from Advice to Writers resonated with me:

Imagine that you are dying. If you had a terminal disease would you finish this book? Why not? The thing that annoys this 10-weeks-to-live self is the thing that is wrong with the book. So change it. Stop arguing with yourself. Change it. See? Easy. And no one had to die.

ANNE ENRIGHT