Kerouac's #13: No Need for Inhibition

It’s been a while since I tackled one of old Mr Kerouac’s Belief & Technique for Modern Prose List of Essentials. We’re up to #13 now. If you would like to check out the commentary on the list from the very beginning, please feel free to do so. Here’s the link.

Anyway, #13 says:

Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition.

Sounds simple enough: just write without thinking about grammar, or style or sentence structure; just go for it without thinking of any of that kind of stuff. Why, you can even forget punctuation. Sounds like a liberation don’t you think? No more fretting over the right place (if there is one) for that comma; no more dread of the passive voice. Freedom at last.

No, sorry it ‘ain’t that simple. Well, it is, but it isn’t. You see, there is a kind of mythology around Kerouac that says he wasn’t one to worry too much about sentence structure, or grammar, or punctuation. And some people say his stuff isn’t very ‘literary’ either.

Well, from what I’ve read, he was an absolute fanatic when it came to grammar and commas and all things to do with structure and style. I mean, how do you think he created such amazing rhythms with his words if he didn’t know his grammar and syntax? And not literary? Blimey, he didn’t just read all the ‘classics’ (ancient and modern and in several languages), he assimilated their styles, their energy and life. I’ve read several Kerouac biographies, and it seems to me that this guy just soaked up all he read, a true master reader really. (I envy him that really: #14 on the list is about Proust, and all I know about him is that he was a writer. Not read a lot of the classics myself)

Of course, the words we have to focus on here are remove and inhibition. And we need to remember that Mr Kerouac is talking, in this list, about the actual act of writing; he isn’t referring to the final result. Naturally we bring to our writing all that we are, all that we’ve learnt over our lives and all we’ve experienced. So, if we are grammar nuts, syntactical swats or literary lounge lizards, then our writing will be informed by it all.

So, we have to remove, get rid of, block out, all those influences? Well, I think it’s impossible: they are part of us. Instead we have to put them aside gently and temporarily from our conscious minds—as we put words down on the page (or the screen). They are going to be there anyway of course. It’s just that we don’t really have to think about them as we write.

Actually, now that I think about it, so many writers, me—and probably you—included, think too much as we actually do the writing. On my screen right now, I see the green and red underlines of the word processor’s spell checker (maybe I can turn them off temporarily?). Even that bit of superficial knowledge inhibits.

I don’t actually have the answers to how this removal of inhibitions can be achieved. I think it’s bound to be a constant struggle for all writers who want to just let it flow. Of course, I could say we should stop talking about it and just do it. I guess it just takes practise doesn’t it? Actually, that sounds pretty much like the answer to me. What do you think?

Another thought: if you promise yourself you will really edit, rewrite, make it as good as you can make it (bearing in mind that life is too short for perfect writing), later, once the words are out there on the page or on the disk (somewhere that is, other than in your head or heart), then perhaps you can give yourself permission to let it flow right now.

Now, excuse me. I have to get on and spell check this lot.

It's All Politics - But Make it a Small 'p' Please

I just read how one of the, shall we say, more repressive regimes in South East Asia is loosening up a little. Sadly, it seems it’s more of a ‘bread and circuses’ kind of tactic: let the young folks release some of their pent up energies on harmless things like music and dancing and they won’t worry about having no bread (or education, or future, or ...) At least that’s what a commentator in the article says.
      Anyway, there’s a surge in hip-hop places, FM radio stations are booming and there’s an annual festival of underground music, including punk bands. Sounds good on the face of it doesn’t it? Well, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t; time will tell I suppose.
      Along with this seemingly upbeat take on the music scene, the article also told me that there had also been a little loosening up of the restrictions on political discussion. Apparently the government, normally paranoid at the mere mention of politics of any other kind than their own, now tolerates open meetings between intellectuals as well as letting smaller (and I guess less threatening) political parties to exist and meet. This is all okay, they say as long as you don’t start to criticise the government of get involved in any kind of ‘anti government’ activity. Small ‘p’ politics is okay; just stay away from the kind with the big ‘P’.
      You might, by now, be asking what’s this got to do with a writer’s life or how it involves us lucky ones who don’t have to live in that place. Well, in the same issue of the newspaper (to which I subscribe because it came at a huge discount for a set time. Sometimes it's overloading for an obsessive like me who has to read every word of interest) there was a column that asked the question, what is the value of political art?
      This piece was suggesting the possibility that overtly political art, art that tackles political issues that have a capital ‘P’, merely produces a predictable burst of outrage from the already converted. On the other hand I hope, along with the writer of that column, that art that seeks to change government policies that are unjust or art that promotes peace and so on, do have some impact on the decision makers. I do realise, however, that it is most likely a rare occurrence that any piece of art has had such an impact.
     You’re right: I could have taken the time to research this question and come up with (hopefully) some examples (please feel free to enlighten me), but really the main point I wanted to talk about here is that I think all art is political—albeit with a small ‘p’
      If an artist’s work comes from her or his genuine response to their experiences of life, whether from their family history, relationships, membership of a group or culture or any other factor that has helped shape their lives, then that work by definition is political. It says something about life and the living of it. It speaks of the complexity of the human condition.
      The last paragraph of the column really struck me and I would like to quote it in full:

‘The honesty of an experience expressed through song, through image, through film, through theatre or through dance can be the most powerful political message of all.’

Without wanting to get political about it, the writer has left one important phrase out of his otherwise very profound statement: through writing. I know, songs have words, so do films and theatre, but some of us writers write books, stories, poems, tweets, and blogs. You name it. We word workers are into everything!

But I think it’s just nice to remember we are all activists, just by virtue of being writers. It’s a good thought don’t you agree?

We inhabit the corrosive littoral of habit: But we don't have to!

Recently I saw a painting called We inhabit the corrosive littoral of habit. It’s a bit of a mouthful for the title of a picture I admit. I’d heard the name before, but until I saw the painting again (the other time I saw it I hadn’t bothered to read the label ... as you do) I had assumed it to be a quote of some kind. The painting, and presumably the title, is by James Gleeson, Australia’s foremost surrealist artist. And now I’ve checked him out on the Internet, I see that he painted some pretty wild stuff. Check him out.


Anyway, those words have intrigued me for a long time. My trusty Shorter Oxford Dictionary defines littoral as, ‘of or pertaining to the shore of the sea ... existing or occurring on or adjacent to the shore’. The littoral zone is the area extending from the high-water mark to the low-water mark. It’s a kind of halfway house of a space. I guess you could say, for instance, that the waiting room at the doctor’s office is a littoral zone: it’s that space not quite of one world where you can linger (sometimes forever) before stepping over the threshold to another

Gleeson had the idea that habit is a littoral zone. And I think he might be right. We all know how habit keeps us from experiencing things new, or different; how it blocks us from change and adventure. Habit keeps us in a kind of permanent halfway house where we might feel safe and comfortable (or we may not: I guess it depends on the nature of the habit), but it keeps us from living fully doesn’t it? And, as Gleeson says, it can be corrosive: eating away at our lives little by little, keeping us from happiness and from fulfilling our potential—whatever that means for each of us as individuals.

For creative people (like us writers) there are many habits that keep us in that littoral zone: procrastination, paying attention to our lack of confidence, our mistaken belief that we have nothing to say, our false conviction that nobody wants to read our stuff, the phoney idea that we ‘aren’t quite ready’ to put our work out there. Need I go on? I don’t think so. All these are extremely corrosive habits that have kept me (just as an example you understand) in that littoral zone, that halfway house of doing less than I could, of dissatisfaction with my life as a writer.

And it is corrosive isn’t it? It destroys what little inspiration and passion there might be. Well, I don’t know about you, but it’s got to stop. Right here, right now. I’ve decided that littoral zones have a purpose—sometimes. But it’s not a place I want to dwell. Of course it’s one thing to say that I’m going to dump all the habits that keep me in the halfway house; it’s quite another to actually get them dumped. But you know what? I’m going to give it my best shot—or rather my best words on the page? Yes, that’s it. Words on the page. After all, that’s what we writers do isn’t it?

Oh My Art I Vow to Thee: A Promise You Want to Keep

I’m going to see Ravi Shankar in concert (check out this Youtube video to hear this amazing man play) in a couple of weeks. It’s a birthday gift from my partner. Last year we saw Leonard Cohen. Yes, I know, I am very lucky: I may not go to many concerts, but when I do, they are the biggies. And I am grateful for the chance to see these extraordinary people.


So, because Ravi Shankar is coming up, my eyes are open for anything in the media about him. Sure enough, just this last weekend there was a profile piece in the paper. It’s a fascinating story, his life. But what really caught my eye was Mr Shankar’s final comment to the interviewer as he left the room. His remark was about his one regret in life:

This, mind you, from a genius who is about to turn 90 and who has been performing, writing and composing since he was in his 20s. And before that, he was an accomplished dancer. His creative output, his gifts to the world, put most of us so-called creatives to shame.

‘I wish I had been more creative. My mind is always working on new ideas. I wish I had done more.’

But, of course, any creative person will always think they have never done enough; there are always ideas that don’t find their way into the light of day. And if that’s the feeling people like Shankar have who never stop creating, what does it say about those of us who aren’t quite as productive? What about all the time we spend complaining along the lines of, ‘I can’t write/I’m blocked/the words won’t come/blah blah blah.

Well, it does feel like blah blah doesn’t it? Here we are literate, full of ideas and with the resources to express them (ie pen, pencil, computer ...), and still we go on about how hard it all is. Well, let me say that from now on, I am going to spend a lot less time complaining about not being able to create, and a lot more time on actually creating—or at the very least focusing on the creative process whatever that might entail.

Now, I know what you are thinking; it’s not always so easy, creativity isn’t a tap you can just turn on and off at will. Well, that may be true, but I wonder what would happen if we really make an effort to devote ourselves to our art/craft/whatever we call it? We might still be blocked, we might still have trouble translating our ideas into words or pictures (or whatever we do), but at least we are going to be on the right track. We will be in the zone, as they say.

Not only that, but we will have no cause to regret not being creative. Of course, I think what Mr Shankar is really saying is that he hasn’t had enough time to manifest all the creative ideas he’s had. And it is certain for most of us that this will always be the case. But if we devote our lives to our art (and that means spending time thinking, reflecting, observing, being - all the things creative people do to live a creative life, even if it's not actaully 'creating'), then what we are meant to produce, we will. Simple as that really. Or at least I am thinking it is simple.

I have on my wall a mandala I coloured in with pretty colour pencils. I’ve made a kind of collage of it with a few bits and pieces stuck on (I’m a word person really, not so hot with the old visual arts thing). Across the bottom of this ‘creation’ I have written:

Oh My Art, I Vow to Thee

And I try to honour that vow, every day.

Dear Diary: How You were Born

I guess for most people Henry David Thoreau is best known for the book he wrote about his time living on Walden Pond, called funnily enough Walden. And I suppose most people would have no idea that all or pretty much all his writings, lectures and so on came from his Journal. Note the capital: he himself called it The Journal. I recently read a very cool book called The Book of Concord: Thoreau’s Life as a Writer, which is an examination of, yes you guessed it, his life as a writer. What made it extra interesting was the way the author (William Howarth) used The Journal as his way into Thoreau’s writing and life.
  As fascinating as this book is, I don’t want to talk about it today. I want to tell you about one of the things that popped out of the book for me: the reason Thoreau started keeping The Journal in the first place. It seems that one of his neighbours in Concord was Ralph Waldo Emerson (imagine that if you can ... wow is the word that comes to mind). Anyway, one day Emerson says to Thoreau, ‘What are you doing? Do you keep a journal?’ Now, it seems that up until this moment, Thoreau had been running around telling everyone he was a writer and examining nature and the life of the town. All that writerly kind of stuff. But he hadn’t been keeping a journal.
  So, he answered Emerson by beginning The Journal. And, as I said, all his writing from then on came right out of that journal. Sometimes, believe it or not, he literally tore pages or passages out and stuck them together to form the final manuscripts. Now, that is called having supreme confidence in what your own work.
  Anyway, after I read that it got me thinking about my own journal and how I came to begin it. As I sit typing this, I can see my journal on its shelves. There are 69 separate volumes, mostly school type notebooks, some exotic ones from travels in India and a few odd looking volumes. Hard to believe I’m now on volume number 70. This is my personal journal; my writer’s journals are another matter. Just like to make that distinction, though of course for a writer there is bound to be a lot of crossover isn’t there?
  In late 1980, I returned to Australia after a few months in New Zealand during which I experienced a traumatic break up. Hanging around at my parents’ house and feeling like a ‘wet week in a thunderstorm’ (if you get my meaning), my mother out of the blue one day said, ‘Why don’t you start keeping a diary?’
  Of course you don’t know my mother, but you can believe me when I say that this is most definitely not the kind of thing I would have ever guessed she’d even think about much less suggest to her son as a way of for him to deal with his grief. But, just like Thoreau after his chat with Emerson, I went right out without delay, bought a school exercise book, and began my diary (I often interchange the terms diary and journal). And I’m still at it, as I’ve said.
  And you know what? Looking at my Journal now, I feel a sense of pride in myself. I may not have (yet) written a best seller, or penned a poem that has won competitions, or even been able to make a decent living from my passion for writing. But what I can say is this: I have consistently for thirty years (almost) now kept a record of my life. Sometimes it’s been an extremely detailed account and written every day; other times there have been gaps with just scant little notes to record my doings, thoughts and so on. But, at least it is there. I have a profound sense of achievement when I think of my journal. Maybe I need to adopt the capital like Thoreau: My Journal.
  My final word must be then, thanks Mum. I know I thanked you when you were alive, but it can’t hurt to announce my thanks to the world (as much of it as reads this blog anyway) can it?

Kerouac's #9: Dig those unspeakable visions man

It's been a while since I did a commentary on one of Kerouac's really groovy Belief & Technique for Modern Prose List of Essentials. If you're interested you can see the start of my commentaries here. But if you would like to look at #8, which was the last one I did here it is. As I say, I haven't done one for a while, and the whole process is taking longer than I'd like. But, hey, that's the writer's life isn't it? Kerouac has thirty items on his list: I guess you'll be reading them for a while pardners!

So, to #9:

The unspeakable visions of the individual

Now, you'd think that if something (in this case a vision) is unspeakable it pretty much means that it isn't writable either. After all, writing is simply another form of communication is it not? For my taste it's about the best form as well, but that's another story eh? Anyway, what does it mean, this unspeakable?

Well, it is about secrets. About things we keep quiet, things that come from the darkness of our subconscious, our fantasy life, or our dreams. It's also about the nature of the secret, or vision (more on vision in a minute okay?): we all have odd ideas, thoughts, fantasies, desires, etc, that are about stuff we'd rather not share with others. Could be a sexual fantasy, or a horror movie that runs in our heads or through our dreams. Or maybe it's about memories we'd rather not revisit. We've all got them haven't we?

Of course it has to be said here that those unspeakable things aren't necessarily of the negative or 'bad' variety: there are many many delightful and 'good' things we're not able or unwilling to speak aloud. Yes?

There's another aspect to 'unspeakable'. A thing may not necessarily fit the aforementioned secret type categories, but nevertheless be unspeakable. It might simply be that we don't have the words, or the means to speak it, whatever it is. We may really want to speak (or write) about these things, but just can't find the way with words that we need. Or think we need

Now, the vision thing. Here I think Kerouac simply means the things we see, think, feel, dream, fantasise and so on. Not actual visions as in angels appearing for example. Mind you, I mustn't discount the possibility, nor should you, that such visions may occur. I suppose if I were to be honest here (and of course this being a blog devoted to truth and all that, I am obliged to do so), I would have to admit that there have been times when I have seen visions. Just a little tangent: when I was in my late teens I drank a lot of wine. I never touched dope etc, and friends and assorted party companions would say, how come you don't do dope man? And I would say, 'I prefer wine because it gives me visions'. Cool eh? Now, I won't say just now if it really did or not. Maybe it was more about a fear of drugs and stuff ... another time okay?

Let's get back on track. I think that's enough about the vision thing. Except to say, we all have visions of one sort or another, literal or metaphoric.

And, have you noticed that our friend Mr Kerouac is not actually saying we have to speak these unspeakable visions. Oops, forgot the individual bit. That's you, okay? Not plural you, just you, yourself. He speaks of the visions you have that are yours, nobody else's. Dig?

I think he just means we have to acknowledge that we have them, these unspeakable visions. I think he is suggesting that it is essential for writers to have these visions. Or, and I like this idea, to be visionaries. Hey, that's me! You too! Visionaries. (the topic of visionaries is too big for this post. I'll make a note to think about it for another time, okay?)

So, what do we do if we don't have unspeakable visions. Ummm. You don't think you have them? Sorry, you do. We all do, as I said, in one form or another. Maybe old Jack is trying to say acknowledge those visions man. And as I say, you don't have to force yourself to speak what is unspeakable: it's about the idea that having such visions can inform your writing, sort of sitting in the background leading you, giving you ideas (and inspiration).

In a way, this idea is about spending time reflecting. Get in touch with your visions, whether they are from your dreams (the day ones or the sleep time ones), your memories (the good and the bad), your fantasies (the dark and the light ones), or from wherever they come from.

I'm not sure Kerouac was a supreme example of this, but here is one last idea to think about: the time spent in reflection on those unspeakable visions may have one more benefit. You may find that by getting in touch with your own visions (of both the unspeakable and speakable varieties: never forget there are lots of speakable visions we all have too), by acknowledging the existence of these 'visions' and then pending time on reflecting on them, may actually enable you to find a way to speak them. It will also be a powerful exercise in its own right. And for any writer, or any human really, this can only lead to growth and development.

Thanks for reading!

Peace

You Got Oldies? They're ALL Goldies!

I don't usually read stuff in the papers about health, medical or death related stuff. (yes I know: how can I say I'm conducting an exploration/experiment in truth without looking at the inevitables of life like death. Good point, okay?). But on the weekend I found myself reading a column about the writer's sadness and problems with caring for his mother who was in a nursing home, nearing death from dementia.
He talks about his not so close relationship with his mother and her on-going deterioration as the dementia takes more of her mind. It's a cruel cruel thing, dementia. Anyway, as the months go by, he finds that his mother is less able to recognise him, except on the odd 'good day'. But, then, even those good days disappear and he is left sitting trying to cheer up this poor lady who he knows won't remember his visit, and who doesn't know him anyway.
Then, after many episodes of sitting and thinking sadly about the situation, many times of frustration about not being able to communicate with his mother, he starts telling her stories about shared experiences (there aren't many: as I said, they hadn't been close and he hadn't really lived with her for much of his childhood).
He sees that the times when he tells these stories are the only times his mother smiles and seems to be 'happy'. Of course he still knows she won't remember any of it, but so? He thinks the moment is enough. He feels better, she feels better. It's a happy result. For now at least.
Anyway, I want to share with you the last couple of sentences of the piece, as I think it applies to writers and other creative people 'suffering' a block or a low mood. I know many creative people also suffer from depression and from other mood problems: it goes with the territory I'm afraid. So, here it is:

Try this. Tell them the old sweet stories. It's a lot better than sitting there feeling sad.

Tell them the old sweet stories. And the not so sweet too. And if you are like me, a creative type who is constantly frustrated at not being able to get the stuff out that you want to, and which you know is there, then don't sit around feeling sad (which is what I do a lot of the time. How boring is that?), tell them some of the old stories.What kind of stories? There are many stories we all have: memories, ideas, opinions, fantasies. You name it. As a writer or other creative type, you know what I am saying.
Who is 'them'? I guess it's anyone who'll listen. It's the computer keyboard. It's your blog (hey! I could do that couldn't I?). It's your diary or notebook. It's any way you can get it down and out into the world. Which is where, after all, stories belong. Of course on a blog, or in your notebook or in a file on your hard drive, your writing may not be read by anyone other than you. But, it is the first step isn't it in the process of getting it read by others? You've got to start somewhere.I was feeling VERY sad today. Like I say, it's my usual way of being. So I sat in the local bakery, had a hot chocolate (just one: the other drinks I had were decaf coffee) and wrote a few pages in my journal. Then when I got home, I got out my laptop and started on this post. Nobody will ever read my journal (I think), but maybe someone will read this blog post. But you know something? I don't feel quite so sad, 'cos I've told you this little story.
Thank you for that.

A NOTE:
I hope nobody will think I am comparing my pathetic sadness with that suffered by the son of a parent who is losing their mind and their life to dementia. I cannot begin to get my head around that kind of sorrow and pain. Indeed, I hope that, by telling this story and adapting it for my own purposes, I do honour to the writer of that column, as well as to his mother who, after all found escape from what had been a hard life in that other world that is dementia.
I thank them for this story.

Let's Get Back to Kerouac: #8 Belief & Technique for Modern Prose

Yes folks, it's time to get back to Kerouac and his writing tips. All you legions and hordes of readers of my riveting blog will recall that a while ago (when was it?) I set out to write up a commentary on the a list by Kerouac called Belief & Technique for Modern Prose List of Essentials. My plan at that stage was to do one a day-and I kept that up for a week. Alas, I found it too much for some reason at that point. I think probably I was wanting to think of other things (not to mention my need to rid myself of the compulsion and rigidity when it comes to aims, goals and things I set out to do).
So, here we go again. This time it will be more of an occasional revisiting of the list. Well, I expect we will eventually reach the end: there are only 30 items in the list. But they are pretty wild items, and really get you thinking about writing, and your role and place as a writer. For the tiny minority of blog readers who haven't seen my commentaries thus far, please feel free to go back and read the Introduction, which is followed, of course, by posts which include my commentaries on the items I've covered up till now. Now, here we go folks.

Write what you want bottomless from the bottom of your
mind.

Now, don't say you always write what you want: who does in reality? Well I guess there are some people who just write what they like for themselves for fun kind of thing. Then there are the obsessive journal keepers (cest moi!) whose meanderings will never be viewed by another. Of course, for my part, I plan on leaving mine to some library: must be somewhere a library which collects the journals of people other than the famous ones.
But, for most of us, writing is about having it read. After all, isn't that what writing is about? A vehicle to communicate ideas, stories and other stuff to a wider audience? And few, very few of us can claim that all that we've written is exactly what we have wanted to write without exception. After all, even writers gotta eat, right?
What Kerouac is saying is just write what you want. That's it. Forget eating. Forget the requirements, restrictions and other freedom killing dictates of the world and its money making minions. See? Simple. No crap. Just write. Like I'm doing here I guess (gee how lucky can you readers get? Should be charging you for this stuff!)
Bottomless? I guess this one's self-explanatory, you think? Not sure it is now I think about it. The first 'bottomless' I think could translate to something like, let it all hang out, just write without limits imposed by, well, anything. The second one refers to the writer's (that's me, maybe you too?) mind. Dig deep, try to get your internal censors out of the way, at least for the first draft type stages, you dig?
But it isn't only about the ridding of our own censors and even inhibitions when it comes to allowing our fingers to fly their own ways. It's about digging deep in terms of finding what is there. Long forgotten memories, old ideas, snippets (cool word: snippets) of conversations or of people's faces from the past that rise to the surface from time to time without warning and with no explanation. All these things reside at the bottom of the storage box in our heads.
You can dig deep as in a kind of proactive exercise where you go hunting for stuff. Or you can simply grab hold of the odd things that you see poking up asking for attention from that bottomless pit (I mean that in the nicest possible way of course). How do you put yourself into the right place to be picking up this stuff, seeing as it's buried pretty deep in that pit?
Of course we all know and have heard many times about taking notice of our dreams, writing them down etc. This is a great way to pick up on stuff that is trying to rise above that bottomless place. Then there is the old 'walk on the beach/in the forest/around the lake/wherever' method of getting the whole system open to creative input and it sure can jolt up that bottom dwelling stuff like memories, old visions, and all.
How's this for an idea? Get a friend or someone to write you an opening line. Doesn't matter if it's of the 'Dark and stormy night' variety: the key is to have it written down for you. Then you sit in front of a blank piece of paper, or a blank document in Word, type the line and don't stop. That's right: don't stop, don't 'think' with your conscious mind or whatever you call it. Just type (or write if you're using paper. Blimey, imagine that? paper!).
Many writers have stories that have come out of such an exercise. I wrote one that got a distinction in a course i was on that started with NOTHING but the line, 'This day had been a long time coming'. Nice story too. Quirky and it brought up memories of a friend from school who'd had a hard time, thought life would be over by 21, so he was going to kill himself. (he didn't: he ended up moving states and joining the Socialist Party. Which some might say is a suicide of a kind).
And there must be lots of other ways to either actively access this bottomless place in our minds, or to have ourselves made receptive to what might rise from the surface. The key is to realise there is a bottomless place that can be used for our writing.
Write what you want, from the bottom of yourself and without limitations. You may not be able to use the resultant words to sell to a publisher (though of course you might be able to), but you will have helped yourself unleash (I was going to type untether. I think I like them both, those words) that part of yourself where creativity, truth, honesty and freedom live.

A Possibly Amusing Picture and Poem Combo

Quite a while ago, 2005 to be precise, I was a student sitting in a poetry class, when the teacher gave us an exercise. 'Write a job advertisement looking for a muse in the form of a poem,' she said. Now, I wasn't really much of a poet (still not actually), but it was a groovy right brained balance to all the other non-fictiony, grammary, computery kind of classes I was also doing. So, as it was really just a class exercise, I thought, yes, I can do that. Mmmm.

Anyway, I didn't like the result, but the teacher and my fellow wannabe poets had a good laugh, and a couple even clapped. So, does that mean it's good or bad or just funny? Who knows? Who cares?

I came across the poem in a notebook the other day and typed it up. Better late than never I guess. Then I had a brilliant poetic kind of idea. I have a lot of photos of a statue called The Three Muses which is in a town just up the road from here called Deniliquin, or Deni to us locals. You dig? My big idea was to somehow put the poem together with a photo of the Muses. Cool eh? So, thanks to Photoshop and my lovely laptop, here is the result. You might like it; you might hate it. Why not tell me? A bit of fun anyway, and it got some creative juices flowing that have been pretty stagnant of late.

Enjoy!

Are we there yet? I'm sooooo bored!!!!!

Boredom. Don't you hate it? Nothing to do, and if there is something to do you've done it a million times. Nothings happening, and you are bored, with a capital B. Now, I'm not going to get into a rave here about how, at least those of us fortunate enough to be able to read this blog (I mean no immodesty here: I refer to the access many of us have to the marvel which allows us to read it should we choose...and who wouldn't really?), live at the most materially prosperous, the most technologically advanced, the most information rich time in human history. I read a cool sentence the other day: We in the 'west' live in a culture of distraction. (While slightly paraphrased, it is still a very groovy description of our glutted, rich materialistic lifestyle don't you think? But that's a different story than the one for today. So, no lectures about getting over the boredom and enjoy your riches ... whatever form they take.

No, I am inspired today by a report I read today about a study put out by East Anglia University in England. Seems they did some heavy duty research into what the article called 'decades of studies on boredom'. If you ask me I can think of very few things more boring than studying boredom, but hey, whatever gets you interested, or whatever gets you the research grants, right?

Anyway, the report says that they published a paper last year that concluded,

'boredom should be recognised as legitimate human emotion that can be central to
learning and creativity'.

I think it's easy to see where they're coming from here. What happens when you come to be bored by something? I mean apart from complaining about it like I know I do sometimes. You try and change things; you try to fix whatever it is that's causing the boredom. Of course on a long train ride, let's say, you're not going to be able to make the train go any faster simply by wanting to relieve your own boredom. Hey, far out example eh? (not!)

But, for writers, boredom is an opportunity. It often strikes me when I'm 'not in the mood' for writing', or when I'm blocked, or when I'm tired. Whatever and whenever; it still hits hard sometimes. So, what to do? Well, I wouldn't mind guessing that I'm not the first one who's ever said to you, 'if you're bored, find something to do'. Am I right? Sure am.

Can't write? Then sort files, or 'shuffle papers' as a friend of mine use to say. You just never know what treasures you'll dig up. I found a poem, over a year old and long forgotten and neglected, the other day just by leafing through a notebook in a moment of idle boredom. (It isn't a treasure ... not yet anyway). Not in the mood to write? Then don't try; read a book, go for a walk, watch TV (please take care with this last piece of advice). Sleep even. The Dalai Lama said, according to my trustee daily Dalai Lama quote widget on my home page: Sleep is the best form of meditation. And we all know that Robert Louis Stevenson actually dreamed a lot of the stuff in The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. When he was asleep that is.

Boredom is a powerful tool for creative types: I guess it can relate to what I was writing about yesterday: being driven to complete something, being overly goal oriented when it just isn't flowing, can lead to boredom. Better to stop pushing and just groove on the boredom; see where it takes you. Going with the flow I guess.

And boredom can strike anytime and anywhere. I think it can even happen when things seem to be going really well: the words are coming out, but they just aren't saying it. Know what I mean? Pretty scary when a writer is bored by her/his own stuff even while it's being written. Probably time to stop, give it up. Give into the boredom and leave it alone; do something else for a while.

So, I guess those researcher wallas might be onto something: boredom should be recognised as legitimate (sure feels that way when it hits don't you think?) and not denied or pushed through. A recognition that it can lead to a way towards creativity and its expression, will help us to acquire this recognition and acceptance more readily.

Now, I don't know about you, but I am starting to bore myself. So I am out of here. (Not really, it's just that we have a DVD to watch, and I am soooo easily distracted by such things)

Almost No Post today; Boy, are you lucky or what?

Yes, that's right: almost decided not to write a post today; I just couldn't be bothered. Tired I guess and it's been a long busy day. But, you see, I am a driven sort of person. Not that I write a post everyday; even the most casual of readers will be able to see that. It's just that today (and the last little while I suppose) I said, got to do a post. So, here I am. No real subject in mind of course, but there you are.

Perhaps we can think about being driven and what it means for a writer to be so inclined. There's the school of thought that says being driven is good: it's being determined, persevering and all that jazz. For me, being driven is a nightmare of stress, pressure, guilt when I don't do something and generally speaking, a real downer. Oh, here by driven I mean obsessive or fanatical or full of push push push. I don't mean the driven as in being driven in a car or taxi or whatever from one place to another. That kind of driven is very nice thank you very much. Of course it depends on who is doing the driving I guess.

But, back to driven as in being crazy possessed to get stuff done. What's the point? If it isn't coming, it isn't coming. Shouldn't we switch direction and put the pen down, close the laptop lid and pay attention to something else. Of course it's okay for that something else to be connected to whatever it is we feel driven to do: reading, thinking, going for a walk, making coffee or tea (tea for me please: trying to cut out the caffeine for now), or whatever else caters to our creativity or feeds our muse (mine also drinks tea and makes sure I don't drink coffee).

So, why am I doing this blog post? Well, I did eventually say to myself, no, you are not doing it; you have nothing to say, you are tired and you are just wanting to watch TV or do other quiet non-demanding stuff. Okay, then I went on and checked out a couple of sites I'd been meaning to look at, read a couple of emails (didn't answer them though) and just took it slowly for a time. Then, out of the blue, I opened up this blog, and just clicked on new post, and there we are. Or rather, here I am.

You see? All that mucking about, doing other routine stuff somehow got the creative juices flowing and as I said, here I am.

Cool eh?

I Can Type. Can You? Try it: You'll Like it

We all use keyboards every day. This means we all type in some form or other every day as we interact with our keyboards. And of course this doesn't just apply to the writers (or wannabes) amongst us: even to keep the most basic of blogs, one has to type in the words.
But how many of us can actually type? I mean as in with all fingers, in the right order and without having to watch each finger as it struggles to find the right key. According to some research I read recently, there aren't many computer users who can type in a structured way. Most just peck away, one or two or more fingers at a time, struggling to make the words come out on the screen in a readable way.
And what's worse is that this same research suggests that as time goes by, the number of 'real typists' using computers is set to decline dramatically. Of course there is the argument (used by many to justify their own lack of skill in this area) that it's only a matter of time before speech recognition and keyless computers become the norm.
Well, I'm no tech geek, but I figure it's going to be a while before we reach that wonderful state of affairs. Sad or not, we are going to be using the old QWERTY or some other keyboards for some time to come.
I guess there are many many people who are quite happy using the reach and peck method, or are contented to be using two fingers to type a word every minute. But what of all the others who might want to get the words onto the screen just a little bit quicker?
About 20 years ago (actually it was 24 years now I think about it, but hey who's gonna count?) I decided that I hated my handwriting so much, that I needed to do something about it. Also, times were such that submitting articles and so on to newspapers etc, had to be typed to be taken seriously. Also I was seriously into letter writing (remember letters? That's another cool topic for another day), and nobody I am sure enjoyed getting my scrawled pages. I figured that nice, neat typewritten pages were what my readers deserved.
So I found a night school class at the local high school. Ten weeks I think it was, though it might have been five or six. A couple of hours one night a week of torturous drills and repetitive exercises. I was convinced for most of that course that I would never be able to type accurately, much less with any kind of speed.
Then, on the second last night I think it was, I realised suddenly that I was typing. I was using ten fingers, hitting mostly the right keys, without looking, without even being conscious of the process. I tell you people, it was magic, truly magic.
Since then I have had jobs that I wouldn't have had if I hadn't been able to type; I've progressed from typewriters, to word processors, to desk tops computers, to this machine I love so much: my laptop (which is actually on my lap as I type). My speed had increased so I now type I guess about 60 words per minute with reasonable accuracy (most of the time at least). In summary, I can't imagine not being able to type.
I've often said that learning to type properly was one of the best things I ever did in my life. And, yes, I think it is. Certainly from a work, writing, communication point of view, there is no doubt: being able to type as I do has been a liberation, on a par with learning to drive and having my own car. A miracle? In a sense you could say it is, yes.
As I said, it seemed hard at the time, like I would never get it. But, there I was that night just typing. Just like now, but probably a bit slower.
So, for anyone wanting to improve their ability to communicate; for anyone wanting to be able to get their words and thoughts out as quickly as they come to mind (well I do think faster than I can type, like most people I guess. But it beats doing it with two fingers); for people who just want to be able to interact in a more intuitive way with the amazing technology we have at our disposal, then learning to type is for you!
There are night school and other places that put on typing classes. And there are quite a few online programs, and it seems many of them are free. Of course there is a load of teach yourself typing software you can buy. There are a lot of options.
So, why not? I love that I can type as I do with all my fingers,without looking at the keys (or even the screen if I don't want to or can't for some reason), without thinking about every letter. It is freedom for anyone who uses a keyboard.
I say try it. You won't regret it and you will probably, like me, surprise yourself at how useful, how much fun, how rewarding and satisfying it is to type well...or touch type as we typists call it!
Good Luck

Be a Dumbsaint: It's the groovy writer's way

Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind

Kerouac uses wors like crazy, dumb and saint an awful lot. I’m not sure I always like his usage or agree with it. But, hey, it’s not for me to say is it? His work is his work and I’m only the reader. But as advice for writers? Well, I think there is much here to reflect upon, or to be honest, to just dig!

I think Kerouac is using the word crazy to mean extremely enthusiastic or unrestrained. Or perhaps bewildered, bemused and or wandering. Not sure he means to tell us to be insane or mad—at least not in the mental illness context of the words anyway. Mind you, having said that, I feel obliged to point out that there is quite a lot of evidence for mental illness amongst his characters. That, however, is not the topic under discussion here.

I think any writer wanting to get to the truth, to the essence of their experiences has to be a little crazy in that positive, free, unrestrained and cruisy kind of way that Mr Kerouac talks about. There are a couple of other synonyms for crazy that my trusty Oxford Dictionary has thrown up. It can mean ‘full of cracks or flaws’, and ‘made up of irregular pieces’. I think they are kind of self-explanatory don’t you think? Good for a writer to think on for a bit though.

It’s kind of groovy that he has combined dumb and saint into one word. I think it should be in the dictionary: dumbsaint.

Dumb has many many meanings in the dictionary and a whole pile of synonyms in the Thesaurus. I’m not going to go on about all of them, so you can relax! For me, Kerouac is using dumb to mean empty headed, in that nice way of a cultivated emptiness which is required when one want to be open to receive new experiences, knowledge or whatever. Foolish too, in the sense of being the Fool about to step on the road, take the leap, get to the fork in the road and take it. You know? It’s the beginning of a journey that’s worthwhile (in this case the writer’s journey.

He might even be thinking of dumb as in silent or quiet. A prerequisite if true learning is to take place, and if one is going to be fully open and ready to dig what’s happening.

Now we get to saint. A nice word even if you don’t go in for all this analytical stuff. A saint is a very holy person (holy can mean a lot of things on its own: look it up), a virtuous person, respectful. A mystic who approaches life reverently. Otherworldly too, in the sense that they are or strive to be, in this world but not of this world (I really dig that idea, how about you?). That doesn’t mean unworldly (which Roget’s stegosaurus tells me is also a synonym for saintly): that would suggest a bad case of negative naivety or something. It’s more about a holy innocence. You dig?

So, I don’t know about you, but I would really like to be a dumbsaint. Innocent, other-worldly, the Fool embarking on a wonderful journey and open to the insights, knowledge and experience that go to make up not only our life journey, but all that we wish to write about, to to say in our writing.. Quiet too. Too often too many writers (just like the rest of the human race) like to talk too much, make too much noise. And if they aren’t making the noise, they are swamped in it from outside.

Oh, forgot the mind bit. Hey, us dumbsaint writerly types aren’t into that mind trip, you dig? We just groove with vibe of the incoming. Amen!

Life is for Loving: Yr Life that is. Kerouac's No. 4

Be in love with yr life

As I did some research (and being a writer, I just LOVE research. Sure, I hear you scoff) on this, Kerouac's No. 4 Technique, I was astonished to see the number of conversations happening across the 'net on the topic. More specifically I was looking at the idea of 'love vs being in love'; many others are thinking about this question too. So many heartfelt, clearly thought out and expressed ideas took my breath away. Thanks to those people.

At the end of my research I've come to the conclusion that love is love. You know? But being in love is thought to be either that early falling, the intense emotion that goes with that first attraction (to a lover or whoever), or it is an intensity you can grow into over time, after that initial attraction gets labelled love and so it goes from there.

But this is a tip for writers, so let's keep it in mind shall we? Being in love with life. No, sorry YOUR life (or as Kerouac put it, yr life) most likely means saying YES to it all. It all being the ups, downs, quiet times, good times, bad times, fun times, poverty times, riches times. All times. And places that you find yourself in, or have chosen to be in, for good or ill, as the expression goes.

It means a full on, emotionally committed engagement with all that your life is and what it brings to you. Isn't this what writers do? I guess if they are really writers they do: they really dig life. Or as Robert Heinlein wrote in Stranger in a Strange Land, really and truly grok the whole deal.

You don't need me to tell you that life stinks sometimes. And it's hard to think about loving (or being in love with) those bits. Life can occasionally (or even often) be a real downer, and it can be hard to imagine just why or how we could love it at those times. Actually, anyone who has read Kerouac, will see how much of his life wasn't exactly a bed of roses or something easy to fall in love with. But, again those same readers (this one included) will also say that it is clear he was in love or loved his life. He just dug it. Yes?

Whatever my research told me, I know that for most of us, 'being in love' is a romantic notion, most often attached to a lover, girl or boyfriend. We sure don't talk about being in love with our cats do we? Mind you. Looking now at one of mine (Lofi is his name: a variant on Lofa which is Tongan for love by the way) curled up on his favourite paddling blanket on the end of the sofa, I could begin to wonder if it is possible. But, whatever, we usually only 'fall in love' in that romantic sense. Still 'romantic' does have other meanings than that which we associate with lovers loving., marriage and all that. That's a subject for another lifetime I think.

No, maybe it isn't . Maybe that's what Kerouac is saying: marry your life. Now that's a thought isn't it? Follow the link for the meaning of grok: it seems to me to be a lot like that intuitive (as opposed to all this intellectualised, researched stuff about the subject) understanding most of us have of being in love. And, as for the relevance to writing and writers (and to other creatives). Well, as it says on that entry in Wikipedia:

...a grokked concept (in this case your life) becomes part of the person
who contributes to its evolution by improving the doctrine, perpetuating the
myth, espousing the belief, adding detail to the social plan, refining the idea
or proofing the theory.

Sounds pretty much what we do, don't you think?

It's only words. But words are all I have: Kerouac's No 3

Try never get drunk outside yr own house

A quick googley and you get a million sites and blogs that cite this one. About the deepest comment I've found on it is a discussion on the shortened your as in yr being pre text messaging abbreviations. Heavy. Oh and there was a joke somewhere else about not yelling like you are drunk outside your house...especially at a cop. A bit better that one.

But nowhere does nobody have any real stuff to say about what the heck Kerouac means by this one, this is especially mystifying if we realise (as we should if we are reading this series of posts on his techniques for Modern Prose) that it's a piece of advice directed to writing and writers. Problem here is that there aren't many writers I've ever met, read, heard of, read about, who don't get drunk outside (and inside) their own houses. And I think this includes poor old Kerouac himself.

No, it's not as easy as that. It can't be. Let's see what a bit of free flowing thinking will do. Or should I say, let me type on for a bit and see what comes up. I got a clue last night when my partner said to me that it sounds like one of those Zen sayings, a Koan even. A good place to start, eh?

Read carefully the structure of the sentence if you will. It doesn't say Try never to get drunk outside yr own house, as you would expect if he meant 'Make an effort to not get drunk outside...'. It's as if he could be saying, try a thing called 'never get drunk' outside yr own house. It's like a concept of some kind, this never get drunk. Now, I see you roll your eyes: that makes no sense at all. And, sadly, you might be right.

Anyway, let's move on. Let's say it is an advice to try a concept, then Kerouac is saying try it outside yr house, as opposed to inside. Maybe it's something you've already tried inside your house; maybe it's something that you've never tried, but do it outside anyway.

So, this advice may not be about getting drunk, or rather not getting drunk. It is (perhaps) about some esoteric, mysterious (or is it mystical?) concept of never get drunk. And that, my dear readers out there in cyberspace, could mean anything.

Anyway, here are my two first thoughts when I read this tip of Jack's. Actually, I had three thoughts. The first was, I have no idea what this means. Then I thought, oh maybe he's left out the to (just as he shortened his your to yr ... simply shorthand Dr Watson) and it's a simple piece of advice about staying sober (as if we could give such advice by old Mr Kerouac any credence whatsoever). But, then I thought, no the 'missing' to just doesn't belong there. It didn't feel right.

And then I thought, it's advice to not go airing your dirty laundry in public. Meaning, I guess, stay cool, be objective, don't get involved with your 'subject' (as in you being a writer that is and all what happens being the potential subject for your writing), keep your mouth shut so you can hear what's going on. And on and on. Get the picture?

If you do, you're a better analyst of such things that I am. In the end I still have little idea what Kerouac means here. It could be, in the end, as simple as 'Don't get drunk in public, stay in control (you being a writer and all), get private kicks at home, keep the public ones on an even keel'.

Still, it does read nice don't you think? Try never get drunk outside yr own house. I like the shortened your. I like that there is no to (by the way, what part of speech is the missing to? Anyone? I looked it up but got muddled.

I was leafing through my (very much UNread) The Scripture of the Golden Eternity (by Kerouac of course), as I tried to puzzle my way through this thing. I came across something that I feel really fits with the occasion. Good advice for me. Good advice for you.
''When you've understood this scripture, throw it away. If you can't understand this scripture, throw it away. I insist on your freedom.''

I don't think it gets better than that. I pray that one day I can take that advice on board completely, totally and freely without reservation.

Be Ever So Humble-and Feel the Power!

Submissive to everything, open, listening.

This, the second of Kerouac's techniques for Modern Prose writing, seems on the face of it a little confusing. Kerouac submissive? Hardly. He was a rebel, stood up for what he believed and did his own thing, never (hardly ever) kowtowing to anyone's authority. He sure as hell wasn't passive, and you could never say he yielded to any authority. Docile? Not Kerouac. Subservient? Never!

Of course I think there could be some argument that all the above might not actually be correct. But, not being any kind of expert or authority on Kerouac, I can't get into that discussion-at least not right now. So, let's just think about our general kind of impression of the guy, the one we get from On the Road, The Dharma Bums, and so on. Submissive is not a word most of us would use to describe the Kerouac we encounter there.

What about as a writing technique (we will get to the open and listening bits soon)? Could we say that he was submissive when it came to writing? I think we can-definitely. I think what Kerouac means by be submissive to everything is to give in to it all. Be humble in the face of all we do and experience; don't put ourselves 'above' others or situations. I guess, in a sense he is saying something like, 'don't judge' a situation or person or event or whatever. Just dig it. That's what he's saying. Do you dig?

Could he also be saying that, as writers, we should be submissive, that we should yield, to our ideas, intuitions? To the muse? (whatever our particular muse might be) He is saying, don't judge those ideas, intuitions whatever; go with it. Don't analyse or rationalise your way out of obedience to those things by a 'superior' kind of attitude that comes with a tendency to not want to submit or 'give in'.

Humility in our approach to our writing, to the ideas, the intuition or the guidance of our muse, that's what he's talking about I think. Surrender to the flow of our lives, to whatever happens is his message. Of course, we Kerouac freaks know he was the great surrenderer (in this context at least) don't we? You only have to dig On the Road, or even better for me The Dharma Bums. Yes?

And here we get to the be open and listen part of the advice. Open to firstly the flow of ideas, intuitions, to the muse. Yes. Then it's also about being open to other people, to the stuff going on around us. Also within us I guess. Open to the messages of our heart, our 'soul' you might say. Open also to the people we meet and what they have to say. Of course we also have to keep our minds open, but not so open that our brains fall out (where did that silly idea come from? Must have heard it somewhere).

Part of being open, of course is to listen. With our ears, of course. But, again, with our hearts, minds, souls. Our bodies even. And we have to listen to our hearts, to our minds, to our souls, and to our bodies. Probably good to listen to other people too while we're at it! Here he means, I mean really listen. Dig?

It really is all about being submissive to everything isn't it? All good and true writers must be. Never means that we have to become Uriah Heap (the Dickens character, not the very groovy '70s band) and wring our hands, grovel, or 'yes sir' anyone. In fact, a true submission to what our lives offer us is really nothing less or more than an acceptance-of the flow of our lives. And, when you think about it, that really is quite a powerful position to be in. It puts us in the here and the now of the flow of life. And that means that we are exactly where we should be if we are going to be the true witnesses to life that as writers we are aiming to be. Well, at least that's what I'm aiming for anyway. Among other things.

Kerouac's No. 1 is my No. 1. Read it and weep for joy

Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr [sic] own joy.

How often have those of us who've taken creative writing classes heard the advice, 'have fun with your writing', or 'write about the things you like/enjoy/care about', or 'if you don't enjoy writing, don't do it'. Or many other similar pieces of advice.

But, how many of us actually take this advice on board? Sure some of us may end up writing about things we like, we may actually enjoy writing sometimes (or maybe often if we're lucky). But when you think about it, when you're totally honest with yourself (and I include myself here), how many of us can say that these ideas truly represent our motivations, our reasons for getting to our desk or keyboard and actually writing? I might be wrong, but I reckon there are very few writers who can truly say they in it for the fun, enjoyment, joy, whatever.

We all have different reasons to write. Money, for those of us who have to eat is a biggie. So is the drive to see our names or our words in print. A desire to be free of the constraints of a boss is another reason some of us choose to be writers (of the freelance variety I mean). Of course there are the many many very often brilliant writers who define themselves as 'amateurs'. They are the ones who will tell you they are in it for the joy of writing, for fun, for interest, an so on.

But, even with them, it's hard to say that joy plays that big a part. Again, it is often (in my experience with writing groups, classes, etc) the desire to see one's name and work in print, a competitive spirit, that provide the drive to write.

Not many of us, I suspect would just sit at the keyboard whip out 'wild typewritten pages' just for the joy of it. We're too busy worrying about grammar, or who will buy the piece we're working on, or will i t win the competition, or will so and so like it. On and on go our inhibitors to joy filled, wild abandoned typewritten pages.

By the way, I am typing this on my laptop, which is literally on my lap as I sit in my living room. I wonder what Kerouac would have done with a laptop. Talk about the tool for wild typewritten 'pages'. When he sat down to write On the Road he typed onto a scroll of paper; this is well known of course and the scroll edition is truly a wonderful, wild read. But he didn't just grab a telex role like I always assumed and use that. He actually taped many pieces of paper together to form the scroll. He actually prepared himself for the typing and writing stint that was to come: he didn't want to be interrupted by having to change the paper in the typewriter. How fortunate we are that we don't even have to think about such things: we can type till we want to stop and then some.

Gathered around him as he wrote On the Road, Kerouac had his many notebooks, filled over the years as he went about his life and adventures. He himself said these, along with memory, were key sources for the material that went into the novel, as well as his other books of course.

These 'secret notebooks', what were they? Were they diaries? I think he did keep a diary, at least at some point: I've seen quotes from it. But mostly these notebooks were filled with his observations, names, dates, all sorts of stuff he recorded along the road. The secret part is interesting. Kerouac used to say he would 'sketch' a scene or event in words, on the spot or soon afterwards.

I guess there were many reasons why these notebooks were secret: whipping out a notebook and pen could easily become a real downer as one goes about getting one's kicks, I think. Also, if you keep a notebook or diary, you know yourself that they can interfere with the actual living of the life one wants to record in those pages.

But I think for Kerouac, secret has another meaning here. These notebooks were just for himself. Who knows what they contain? Other than the above mentioned observations that is. Fantasies, secret heart reflections, you name it. It's probably all there.

He says, with this first 'technique', that if you are to write, really write, you need to do it at least sometimes just for yourself, nobody else, and for no other reason than because it is for you. And for joy too of course. How hard this is! We always think everything we do has to have a purpose, a goal. We think of something that is done for no other reason than to please ourselves is frivolous, selfish, self-indulgent, a waste of time that could be better utilised doing something else.

Well, I for one am totally sick of always having to have a reason for every little thing I do! I think it is really appropriate that this technique is number 1 on Kerouac's list: it is a number one top notch, very groovy, and right on piece of advice.

Everyone who reads this (assuming anyone at all does read it) has the tool at their fingertips to indulge is some wild typing (by the way, I read an article that says a huge percentage of computer users can't actually type 'properly'. I did a night school course many years ago and can say it is one of the very best things I have done in my life, if you know what I mean. Now I touch type 40 or 50 words a minute and think of it as a miracle. Do it yourself and you'll see what I mean.

Get a notebook, if you don't already have one. And if you do have one start using it with abandon; keep it secret, as in from others as well as in terms of what you put in it being just for you. Some call this a writer's or artist's journal or diary. Doesn't matter what you call it. Just go for it.

I'm going to do it anyway. Never been that uninhibited with my writing, even in my personal journal I've been keeping for 30 odd years (imagine that?). Thanks to the blogger who put up Kerouac's techniques and Kerouac himself (I have a hell of a lot to thank that dude for), I now have a tool and the incentive to really let go, be myself, go wild with my typing. Who knows what will eventuate? Who can say what gifts I will receive by opening up, letting go, being free.

That's it for today. Can't wait to think about technique number 2 and share some of my thoughts on it tomorrow. Until then, good writing!

Kerouac's Belief & Technique for Modern Prose: My Commentary Begins

I heard about Kerouac's list of writing tips called Belief & Technique for Modern Prose from the search I have set up in Tweeter for anything Kerouac (being a bit of a Beat, as well as beat-lower case-tragic). The tweet led me to a blog on which the blogger had posted the list, along with a list of tips from Kurt Vonnegut. As anyone who knows Kerouac's writing would already be guessing, his are a bit crazy, a little way out there, some verging on the mystical, others on the edge of reason. I don't really know Vonnegut's writing at all, but his tips are a bit more down to earth and even more directly related to the craft of writing-at least in the sense of mundane technical skills and so on. Also he has a nice succinct list of eight, while Kerouac has 30 on his list.

As soon as I read the Kerouac list I was blown away - just as it seems many people have been judging by the comments over at that other blog. Oh, almost forgot to give you all the address. It is: www.halfdesertedstreets.com/ . And an interesting site it it too. Very inspirational and friendly too. The blog owner calls themselves a book dork. Now that is something to be proud of, don't you think? I'm happy to have that label on me too. Just have to read a bit more first!

Anyway, I had this idea I would like to comment on at least some of 'tips' Kerouac offers. Then I thought, why not do a full blown bit of a commentary on a few of them that really struck me? But I thought then (lots of thinking going on here...makes a change my friends would say!) I would take the list from start to finish and comment on each tip in turn. It occurred to me that this may be the best way to do Kerouac's list justice. After all he chose to list the tips in the order that he did; maybe he was thinking clearly when he did it and prioritised the tips, or maybe he was off his face and was just rapping and it all came out in any old crazy and irrelevant order. Who knows? Hey, maybe someone out there does know??? Wow, that would be groovy. Let me know please!!!

So, that's what I'm going to do: Starting tomorrow I am going to work through the list. What a challenge; what a way to hon0ur one of my writing heroes. (which is not the same as saying he is one of my heroes for my life; but that's another VERY BIG story for another far off day).

Number 1 on Kerouac's list says:

Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr [sic] own joy.

Isn't that wild? Oops. Not now. Tomorrow. I want to sleep on this idea and let it just sink in. I want to really dig it before I go spouting off about it.

I feel one thing about Kerouac that needs to be said here and now. I believe strongly that he always struggled very hard for the truth. Not always in the way you or I might (or would dare?), and not always in ways that actually led anywhere useful (useful being a matter of perspective of course). But the search was genuine, of that I have never had any doubt, nor have most other serious readers of his work. This is why he fits here, on this blog. Besides, he is also a great writer: any tips he has are worth at least a little thought for any writer.

It is kind of a nice fit that his work was for a time influenced by Buddhism and his interpretation of the Dharma. And he was a dreamer too, wasn't he? And many since have used his work and life to inform their own Dreaming, their own searches for truth and life.

So, tomorrow then. I thank my fellow blogger for sharing these tips with all of us. Of course I and anyone could have found (perhaps should have found them before now) this list on our own, but the fact is, I didn't. Now I have. As I wrote on my comment on that blog: VERY GROOVY.

Is Life Too Short for Perfect Writing?

Having heard of an interesting piece of graffiti, I went to see and photograph it just the other day. It is a statement that reads, simply, Life’s too short for perfect writing. Simple on the surface, but it is a deceptive idea, and one that I at least should examine carefully.

The first thing to say is that the statement does not say that life is too short for goodwriting: in my opinion there is no place for any other kind. Here good for me refers to the intention of the writer: not all of us are gifted authors (though some of us can dream!). So, it is the word perfect that gives us trouble here. Of course a thing-whether writing or any other thing- might be perfect by its nature or by the way in which it is able to express its purpose. It is the persuit of perfection (as opposed to the persuit of excellence: the two are not the same) that life is too short for I think.

Perfectionism is a curse! At least it has been for me. Nothing has ever been good enough, mainly because I have never been satisfied with my efforts. Of course being cursed with perfectionism doesn’t only apply to oneself: all people and all things in one’s life are affected and the curse rolls on and on doing its damage and preventing authenticity, full truth and life to express itself.

The other part of this statement worth looking at is Life’s too short. By itslef it is not in dispute: life is what life is; it can be niether too short or too long, it can only be its perfect (you see? here is a use of perfect in a natural and correct context) length. And this is precisely why it is too short for perfect writing that is created via a perfectionist attitude.

Life is for living. There is no meaning to it outside of that which we create during our time of living, and then it is only for the duration of that life (as far as we can know of course). A part of that meaning, for me as for many many other writers, is to write. And it is required of us to make that writing as good (however we define that) as we can. If our writing communicates the intended ideas in a way that our readers can relate to, then it is perfect. There is no need to think about it anymore.

Thank you

PS My partner says that maybe I have taken this graffiti message on board: she says my writing is getting better and better. I am not concious of letting go of my perfectionism, but it is one of those things that lives below the surface and it isn’t always available to scrutiny. Time will tell. By the way, the statement appeared at the bottom of a cafe menu scrawled onto an old iron sheeting fence behind the cafe, near the river near where we live. It, I think, refers to the untidyness of the handwriting on the sign. A sort of apology I guess. Interesting.

PPS This post has been copied from my other blog over at Wordpress. Not that I am being lazy, just that I want to share this post with more of my legions of fans!

Write the Truth. What else is there?

I'm reading Jack Kerouac's On the Road: The Original Scroll at the moment. Now, this is a very groovy book: so much of what Kerouac wrote didn't end up in the published version of the novel. The names are real (a whole lot less confusing for sure) and there are many scenes, different sentence structures, lots of stuff, that make it a whole new and exciting experience to read.

Anyway, one of the features of this book are the essays in front of the novel itself. They are by all sorts of Kerouac scholars, literary types etc, and they give some interesting new perspectives on this very famous, very cool and life-changing novel (as well as others by Kerouac such as The Dharma Bums, Big Sur and others). In one of the essays there is a quote from Kerouac's diary or from a letter he wrote (I forget which):

"There is nothing to do but write the truth. There is no other reason to write."

That's what he said, and to me it seems a pretty succinct way of putting my own writing philosophy (well, a part of my writing philosophy at least).

Kerouac's quote says two things. First, writing the truth is the only thing to do. And, second, writing the truth is the only reason to write. The conclusion one could draw from this is that all of his writing was true, or the truth. Of course, as we know, Kerouac wrote novels (among other things: his poetry is pretty wild also) about his own and his friends' adventures and lives as part of what became known as the Beat Generation of the late 1940s and 1950s. And, as one who has read the biographies, I know that what he wrote in his novels wasn't always factual: he made stuff up, invented characters and events and so on. Just like any novelist does.

You notice I said his writing wasn't always factual. That's not to say he wasn't writing the truth. Another of Kerouac's quotes (again I have no idea of the exact source, sorry) says, "The truth is the way consciousness really digs everything that happens." In other words the truth is in the eyes of the beholder. Anyone who has read Kerouac will tell you that he always went for the essence of whatever was going on; he was very intense, always open and looking for the heart of the matter - and the people, places and goings on he was involved with.

Now, if that essence of heart of the matter stuff had to be dressed up or disguised for whatever reason, then it was okay as long as it, to quote from another quote (the author of which I have long since forgotten. I collect quotes but often lose the bits of paper I wrote them on), "serves some notion of truth''.

There is obviously room for manipulation here isn't there? What if I as a writer tell you that what I've written is true, and I lead you to believe that this ''true'' means factual? It's easy to do and it's done all the time (no need for me to point out the litany of literary hoaxes from over the years that gets trotted out in discussions of this sort). And, the manipulation may not necessarily be deliberate: I could by innocent omission give the impression that what I've written is fact. Again, it's been done.

What it boils down to for me is pretty much what I refer to in the description at the top of this blog: we are all searching for truth, artists perhaps more than most people. but the only truth we can ever know is that which comes from our own exploration of ourselves and the world. It doesn't matter how we dress it up or in what terms we define it or whatever; all that matters is that it is our truth. And that we are honest with ourselves too. If we are honest with ourselves, then we are by default being honest with our readers (if we are lucky enough to have readers that is). As writers, as artists, that's all that is required of us. Like Kerouac says, let your own unique consciousness really dig exactly what happens.
Thanks!