Creating space to listen to my creative pulse is at times difficult because it can feel like I’m not working - not accomplishing, and yet it is in the moments of daydreaming or getting lost in a simple task like raking leaves or baking that an answer or new ideas often drift to the surface.
Brilliant, Bernadette - and so timely. Reading Steven King's "On Writing", he strongly advises writing a first draft before inviting other voices in. I'm resonating with his and your words right now. Immersing myself in my book in order to get it all out of me and onto the page. The sculpting of it can come after. Thank you for sharing your wisdom. ❤️🔥
Yesterday I looked for a word for the sound of water seeping into dry soil (I was watering seedlings) and decided that it 'crinkled'. Just finding that one word felt like something inside me was getting watered too.
Thanks for pointing us to these two great Irish writers, Liz.
I also adore how Niall Williams finds a thousand ways to write about rain. The opening of This is Happiness is incredible:
'It had stopped raining.
Nobody in Faha could remember when it started. Rain there on the western seaboard was a condition of living. It came straight-down and sideways, frontwards, backwards and any other wards God could think of. It came in sweeps, in waves, sometimes in veils. It came dressed as drizzle, as mizzle, as mist, as showers, frequent and widespread, as a wet fog, as a damp day, a drop, a dreeping, and an out-and-out downpour.'
And your own words here feel like a poem to me.
'Yesterday, I looked for a word for the sound of water seeping into dry soil
I was watering seedlings and decided that it 'crinkled'
Just finding that one word felt like something inside me was getting watered too.'
I’m looking forward to making the time to “listen to the rain”. When you wrote last week about pottery class, I remembered this was something I’d longed to do as a child, and never have I needed to take time for myself as much as I do now. Booking myself in for pottery class. I’m looking forward to creating, and to create without intention of sharing it on social media, but to create just for me. Thank you again
I'm delighted to hear that you're booking the pottery class, Daniel. And I love the notion of creating just for you. I can see how the longing to do that makes sense given that you work as a designer is all about listening to what other people need and want.
I hope you'll come back and share your pottery creations!
Great to be here! I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately…as you say, it’s hard to hear your own voice when constantly listening to others. But like you, finding quiet moments is crucial. Taking walks, being in the garden or cooking without anything else going on…just being in the moment… I find super helpful. ☺️
Thanks for sharing what works for you. It's so easy to default to sticking the earbuds in while we're doing other things. I'm beginning to see the opportunity cost of this. The temptation to always be consuming is real.
Always a generative spark in these missives, Bernadette. Thank you.
In my rare moments of stillness, I find the greater struggle as a writer is not so much remembering to turn up the sensitivity dial on each of my senses to “HIGH” and taking a reading, but it is to take a measure of what I’m feeling, on an emotional level, and then to attempt to describe what is almost ineffable by definition in a way that others can respond with, “YES, I know that feeling.”
Thank you for the prodding to peer more closely, Bernadette.
And to answer your question, yes, there was that occasion several years ago when, for various out-of-our-control reasons, my wife and I were not together on the evening of Valentine’s Day. While I was pining for her, I heard Gordon Lightfoot’s A Song for a Winter’s Night playing in the room.
In that moment, I became undone and wrote about it here (if I may share):
'We were both out of place, out of sorts, out finding our own way, and wondering if it might include the other.'
Maybe listening to music is one way in for you?
It's interesting to hear you talk about 'out-of-our-control reasons'. So much of what we hear about the writing life seems to be about discipline and control. Perhaps we only get to the heart of how we're meant to write when we feel most out of control.
Bernadette, your comments about the challenge of being quiet (not busy) to let your mind, imagination, and surroundings impact your journey is profound and true. Easy to say...harder to do. Great stuff...
Lovely B xx
Thanks, Kel. 🧡
Not that i was going to get much done in the coming week, but now I’ll not get much done in the coming week …with a purpose. Thanks
Thanks for being here, Kunal.
Creating space to listen to my creative pulse is at times difficult because it can feel like I’m not working - not accomplishing, and yet it is in the moments of daydreaming or getting lost in a simple task like raking leaves or baking that an answer or new ideas often drift to the surface.
Brilliant, Bernadette - and so timely. Reading Steven King's "On Writing", he strongly advises writing a first draft before inviting other voices in. I'm resonating with his and your words right now. Immersing myself in my book in order to get it all out of me and onto the page. The sculpting of it can come after. Thank you for sharing your wisdom. ❤️🔥
I'm glad it helped you to think about how to work with your words, Anne.
In Claire Kilroy's 'All the Names Have Been Changed', the Dublin rain is a character in itself. And Seamus Heaney's 'The Rain Stick' is a symphony of rain sounds on the page, and no rain involved at all. https://eyfs.info/news.html/eyfsf/a-poem-the-rain-stick-by-seamus-heaney-r304/
Yesterday I looked for a word for the sound of water seeping into dry soil (I was watering seedlings) and decided that it 'crinkled'. Just finding that one word felt like something inside me was getting watered too.
Thanks for pointing us to these two great Irish writers, Liz.
I also adore how Niall Williams finds a thousand ways to write about rain. The opening of This is Happiness is incredible:
'It had stopped raining.
Nobody in Faha could remember when it started. Rain there on the western seaboard was a condition of living. It came straight-down and sideways, frontwards, backwards and any other wards God could think of. It came in sweeps, in waves, sometimes in veils. It came dressed as drizzle, as mizzle, as mist, as showers, frequent and widespread, as a wet fog, as a damp day, a drop, a dreeping, and an out-and-out downpour.'
And your own words here feel like a poem to me.
'Yesterday, I looked for a word for the sound of water seeping into dry soil
I was watering seedlings and decided that it 'crinkled'
Just finding that one word felt like something inside me was getting watered too.'
Beautiful...
Thank you so much for this – and thanks for the recommendation! I've added This Is Happiness to my BorrowBox reserves.
You're in for a treat, Liz!
I’m looking forward to making the time to “listen to the rain”. When you wrote last week about pottery class, I remembered this was something I’d longed to do as a child, and never have I needed to take time for myself as much as I do now. Booking myself in for pottery class. I’m looking forward to creating, and to create without intention of sharing it on social media, but to create just for me. Thank you again
I'm delighted to hear that you're booking the pottery class, Daniel. And I love the notion of creating just for you. I can see how the longing to do that makes sense given that you work as a designer is all about listening to what other people need and want.
I hope you'll come back and share your pottery creations!
Wise words indeed Bernadette!
Thanks for being here, Claudine. How do you balance learning and creating?
Great to be here! I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately…as you say, it’s hard to hear your own voice when constantly listening to others. But like you, finding quiet moments is crucial. Taking walks, being in the garden or cooking without anything else going on…just being in the moment… I find super helpful. ☺️
Thanks for sharing what works for you. It's so easy to default to sticking the earbuds in while we're doing other things. I'm beginning to see the opportunity cost of this. The temptation to always be consuming is real.
Loved it, Bernadette. Can’t believe I passed thru these moments as well- write before you read. It indeed works wonders.
Thanks for being here, Anil.
Always a generative spark in these missives, Bernadette. Thank you.
In my rare moments of stillness, I find the greater struggle as a writer is not so much remembering to turn up the sensitivity dial on each of my senses to “HIGH” and taking a reading, but it is to take a measure of what I’m feeling, on an emotional level, and then to attempt to describe what is almost ineffable by definition in a way that others can respond with, “YES, I know that feeling.”
Any tips for this would be welcomed.
You've put your finger on something here, Gary —the ultimate goal of our writing.
....to describe what is almost ineffable by definition in a way that others can respond with, “YES, I know that feeling.”
As far as tips go, vulnerability and specificity seem to be key. That does not mean the writing must be a 'tell all'.
Can you remember a time when you felt you achieved this—a time when your writing moved you or made you feel more human?
Thank YOU for helping me to go deeper.
Thank you for the prodding to peer more closely, Bernadette.
And to answer your question, yes, there was that occasion several years ago when, for various out-of-our-control reasons, my wife and I were not together on the evening of Valentine’s Day. While I was pining for her, I heard Gordon Lightfoot’s A Song for a Winter’s Night playing in the room.
In that moment, I became undone and wrote about it here (if I may share):
https://garydrouillard.substack.com/p/a-note-to-my-dearest-on-valentines
Beautiful, Gary.
This sentence holds so much:
'We were both out of place, out of sorts, out finding our own way, and wondering if it might include the other.'
Maybe listening to music is one way in for you?
It's interesting to hear you talk about 'out-of-our-control reasons'. So much of what we hear about the writing life seems to be about discipline and control. Perhaps we only get to the heart of how we're meant to write when we feel most out of control.
Bernadette, your comments about the challenge of being quiet (not busy) to let your mind, imagination, and surroundings impact your journey is profound and true. Easy to say...harder to do. Great stuff...
Thanks, Penn. Great to see you here.