Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Thoughts on obsession.
I just read a book on writing. Well, it was about writing but was fiction but was actually the authors journey to finishing a novel. So it was writing about writing, while writing. Anyway. It had a part in it about obsession. About what your obsessions are. And if I look not very closely at my obsessions when it comes to writing, it pretty much goes like this: 1. Love (falling in, falling out, being in, dealing with etc etc) 2. The past. 3. Grief 4. Being a mother to Little Cwtchy (although I hold back on this as right now, it is my default topic and frankly, it bores me a bit. Only because I talk about her all day long and think about her all day long and then when it comes to writing, I need to escape that a bit.) 5. Normal stuff in unusual interpretations. (paper cranes, autumn leaves, welshmen) I suppose my main, all encompassing obsession though is writing. Like when you learn another language and start thinking in it, I often think in paragraphs, in verses. I love words. I read about a novel a week. Even when the small one was tiny and I was getting zero sleep, I would read. My house is full of books. I try to give them away to anyone that will take them because when they sit on a shelf like a neglected puppy, it makes me sad. I feel like now is a good time to start pushing some boundaries and challenging myself with my writing. I want new material. I don't want to keep rehashing the same old my-mother-in-law-committed-suicide-my-husband-left-I-met-a-new-husband-then-we-had-a-baby story for the rest of my life. I guess I am ready to reframe the experience of moving to the other side of the world so it does not sit in the context of my divorce, so that it stands on its own as a truely cool thing that i got to do. So I am going to join a group, a class, and be accountable and stretch my self and my experiences.