kellementology

life according to me

Tag: writers

  • Learning from Writers

    I’ve been reading portions of William Zinsser’s Inventing the Truth, a collection of pieces by talented writers on The Art and Craft of Memoir. It lays open in a place that I’ll see it throughout the day so that I can noncommittally pick it up and think about what the writers have to say about their respective experiences writing memoir.

    One of the pieces,”Points of Departure,” by  Jill Ker Conway discusses so many different things worth my consideration.  But what I can’t get past is the sheer magnitude of her life — and that I’ve never heard of her before.  How does that happen, and why, after learning of it all, do I not feel insignificant?

    Most likely because I’ve never suffered from being or feeling insignificant.  Of course, everything is relative, so it’s easy to say that I’ve been significant to my family, or good friends, or a student here and there.  Perhaps even to birds I’ve trapped inside and released before they hurt themselves crashing against a window to get out.  Definitely the IRS since they can depend on us for tax dollars. But I’m not talking about any of that.  It’s so much larger than the tiny details that we essentially are.

    I wander through my day and think, “What does it mean?”

    I’ve learned that Anne Lamott’s KFKD will play, relentlessly telling me all things non-constructive — anything to keep me from actually writing something relevant.

    Anything.

    At least if I continue to read Conway, I’ll write, but I’ll want to write about what distracts me, such as her opinion about women being “lodged in family networks [being] very attractive to the political right because it provides a good reason for keeping [them] from establishing a strong independent identity of their own.”

    That’s a few good days of writing all by itself.

    Instead, I’ll think more about what she has to say about memories and their separation from the emotion they so readily evoke.

    I’ll also think about her question, “Why did it happen that way?”

    In the meantime, I’ll write, too.

    It’s easier to take on.

    Girls are certainly different now, aren't they?
  • Finding a place to begin

    Finding a place to begin

    Nike was smart when they launched their campaign admonishing those of us who sit far too long on our ever-expanding rear ends to “Just do It.”  But when you’re someone who is more inclined to first think, then talk about what you are thinking about — like writing — then think about writing before you actually write anything,  clearly those words have no effect.  None.

    I haven’t “Done It” yet.  In other words, I’m still getting warmed up to the idea of possibly thinking about wanting to write something.  Not just anything, but the piece I am supposed to write.

    The problem is twofold.  On second thought, it’s got quite a few more folds than two. Tenfold might be more accurate.  I have no excuse for this.  It’s pathetic.

    And so when I find myself in this particular situation, I review what I know.  I mull over every detail and experience much like one might sort through an old recipe box, thinking about what is on each card instead of pulling one out, and actually cooking and serving it for dinner.

    I could go back through the books I’ve used in the past whose authors have helped me sort out my thoughts.  People like Zinsser and Lamott, or Goldberg or E.B. White, because they force me to think about what I’m not doing. But I’d have to have something, anything, to work with before I’m compelled to pick up one of those books again.  Otherwise, it’s no different than reading travelogues and never traveling, or buying yet another cookbook when never intending to cook.

    Somehow in my wandering today, I came across Vonnegut and his take on style.  I’d not seen it before, and I read it through several times acknowledging his advice, but thinking more about his writing.  I read parts of it aloud, as I often do when something is written just right, needing to hear the cadence of words as each works with another.  Then I considered the advice.

    One thing was missing.

    Find a place to begin.  And therein lies the rub.

    Since it’s not a dark and stormy night, I’m taking myself out into the sun that has finally decided to grace us with its presence to sit and read something well-written, take a few notes, and find a place to begin while I’m distracted by green bugs in the vicinity.