a way with words

Wrote this some years back in one of my frustrated moments about writing fiction. My goals have shifted somewhat, but I like it, so reproduce it here:

I’ve lost it again. It was there, right on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve lost it. A whole cascading gallon of words, gone. They etched themselves on my mind for a moment. So fast they piled on top of each other, gleeful, eager. I was…sitting in the armchair staring at the bookcase. Washing up, spilling water down my sleeves. Wandering up the stairs, forgetful of where I was going. And then the rabble is gone – gone! Just like that, erased, vanished. I have a moment of frustrated mourning. How many stories can come and go, in a flash?

Having a way with words will not make you a good writer. The most delicious sentences are in vain, with nothing to hold them. Like a broken cup, it all spills out uselessly onto an unforgiving floor. Trying to write them down before they are lost – one hesitation, just one, can lose it all – stopping to save a document – so very sensible, and yet so fatal. This is wonderful, I must save it – but in those few seconds it is lost again. Gone. My very first word. ‘Gone’. And it repeats over and over in my life. Gone.

It is not that I cannot think of a plot. Not precisely. They flow exuberantly through my mind – usually uninvited – but they turn sour. My initial caresses, the delight of losing myself in a tale of my own making…it is over too quickly, before I could do anything with it. My mind makes a series of adjustments. I forget the original – was it better?! That which I adored with a passion yesterday today seems pathetic, useless, even despicable. Surely not. Not entirely. Perfectionism sizzles in there with the whole torrid mix. It will not stay still. And then it is lost forever.

Keep on pushing, straining, hoping, hurting, and then maybe you will achieve it – the grand idea the glorious tale the exorbitant march of words. But each time becomes another time where the sour taste of defeat spreads. It is like the food you adored but now cannot stand. That is how I feel about words. That is how I feel about my words. But they won’t let me go. Not entirely. I allow them vacation time and tell them not to come back if they don’t want to. But they slyly re-occur, bringing with them all their tired disappointment.

Having a way with words will not make you a good writer. But words insist on having their way with me. Briefly, punctiliously, laugh-out-loud extravagantly – and then comes the dumping, the dispelling, the never-mind-not-today dulling. The teasing, exhausting, wooing, discouraging, miserable love affair with words. There are those that achieve some mastery. Some discipline. Some staying power.

But they will not stay with me. They never do.

They never quite leave me alone, either.

ugh

Headache ridiculous, hence not writing much. Please pray it eases soon. Am so fed up with it. Physio tomorrow, will talk to her about it. Also think will go back and have another eye test in case I do need an extra prism as well. And to top it all off, one of my wisdom teeth is adding to the problem. Help! So tired.

natural therapy

Well, what happened to last week? I was here, I simply didn't write anything: quite busy with various things, and when I had a bit of free time my brain had turned mush-like, which is not conducive to writing. Possibly it would have got into gear if I'd written a sentence or two, but never mind.

We celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary last week. Had a meal out and went out to an RSPB nature reserve on Andy's day off, which was very nice. So many butterflies! Am rather fond of butterflies.

Had splintering-oh-good-grief-horrible headache last night. Did not go to church this morning but planning on going this evening for the communion service. Had an hour this afternoon sitting in the sunshine in the garden (with hat and sunblock!) which was lovely and relaxing...speaking of butterflies, there was a Painted Lady lounging on the buddhleia next to me, absolutely beautiful. Have not seen one since the throng that came through a few weeks back (see here). Also noted the honey bees accompanying it - glad of that due to the plight of the honey bee. Bumbles everywhere, as always in our buzz-friendly garden!!

The goldfinches occasionally on feeder while I was out there - the female is very unsure and flies off the minute she sees me, but he is beginning to tolerate me. Impressed I was close enough to tell them apart! (There is another 'set' of goldfinches in the neighbourhood - had the two fledglings sitting cheeping on the washing line last weekend - very cute!) Mr Blackbird has reappeared - seemed to disappear while we were on holiday, but discovered him sheltering in the forsythia from the rain yesterday. Threw him some raisins. On discovering 'normal service' has resumed, he's been dropping in all day today with his plaintive look. Even more plaintive as he is mid-moult and rather raggedy!

Still struggling with neck and head problems, but nature was very therapeutic for me this afternoon. Charlie in uber-relaxed state, happy to receive some attention.

Craft group tomorrow morning...have made a poster for them in style of scrapbook page, hope they like it...

raiding my heart

Last night I read through an old copy of Fragile World, to remind myself of its purpose and vision (for more details, click here). I reached my goal of £500 at the end of last year, and wanted to start my next project, Out of Darkness (its working title), this year. Out of Darkness is proving in many ways to be more challenging, not least because I am starting it completely from scratch. I did write poems specifically for Fragile World, but many were compiled out of those I had written before.

I wanted Out of Darkness to be not an anthology but a collection of 'poems and prayers for a broken world' - a resource for personal intercession, if you like. I hope to use it to raise money for the abused women of the Congo, perhaps through Tearfund, although I will wait until it has taken more shape to look into this further.

Waiting for inspiration isn't going to work; I have slowly begun to put pen to paper and raid my heart, but it isn't easy. I need to perpetually remind myself of those words that so propelled me in the first place - there is always something you can do.

The following is one of those I wrote especially for Fragile World, coming out of the original grief I experienced on the 'breaking of the walls' of my heart. Dear God, don't let me forget it.

Torn

her tears –
flames in the heart
of God, burning –
she,
wonderfully made
but treated as
disposable,
to be used, and then
used up.
ripped apart,
torn inside and out
splintered like a
shell, under
an iron foot.
violated,
her soul turns to ash.
no more heart music –
they have broken her strings.

(C) Lucy Mills 2008, Fragile World

a little encouragement

A little encouragement would make all the difference.

Yesterday a little self-analysis took place, which always creates a mini squirm-athon. Telling the truth about yourself to yourself is not a particularly comfortable activity. I realised I am constantly seeking encouragement. I have things I want to do in life, aims, goals, ambitions, which I have told myself would be much more do-able with some external encouragement. A little push. A little praise. A little confidence in me that I can achieve these things. When I don't feel I am receiving this encouragement, I start slumping into gloom, unable to combat my fears and anxieties by myself. It's embarrassing, writing it so publicly, but I have realised it's true. Thinking, subconsciously, that I could achieve much more with the right encouragement. I just need to find it.

To clarify - I'm not saying I don't receive encouragement from those I love - I most certainly do. What I'm recognising is a tendency within myself to rely on others' encouragement, and flop backwards if I don't seem to receive it, especially from people I perceive as 'successful' in pursuing that for which I wish I had the same drive.

Yuk. I'm deliberately being harsh on myself because I think I need it. I need to give myself a push. I'm the only person who could get away with saying it, if you know what I mean. In some areas of life, we have to learn for ourselves. So I say to myself: get a grip.

And then another thought 'popped' into my mind. (Do have those interesting 'thoughts' that pop into your mind?!) If someone came to me in need of encouragement, would I give it? Would I notice? Would I see what a difference could be made in how I respond to this person?

What if...I reversed this tendency in myself - the tendency to need encouragement? What if it morphed instead into the ability to perceive where encouragement is needed? What if my aim changed - and I aimed to be an encourager?

Often our weaknesses can become our strength, through the power of the Spirit in our lives, producing fruits we could never conceive of - suffused with the love and kindness of God. Thus my hope today is that my need for encouragement can be transformed into an awareness of others' need for it. I don't expect this to happen immediately. Change is hard work, especially when it is a matter of character. I ask God to take my reluctant, anxious, uncertain side - that which needs encouragement, and change it into something focused on that which is entirely external to myself.

We often don't see the power of our words and actions - their potential ripple effects. Encouragement can change minds, hearts, lives - maybe even the world, just a little bit at a time. So instead of feeling desperate for a little encouragement, today I resolve to focus on giving it wherever I can...

A little encouragement would make all the difference.

longing for the longing

'The soul must long for God in order to be set aflame by God’s love; but if the soul cannot yet feel this longing, then it must long for the longing. To long for the longing is also from God.'
~ Meister Eckhart

dancing partners

Who is your most regular dancing partner?

I had an inherent shyness as a child which morphed into sheer self-consciousness as a teen. I masked it by a kind of deliberate silliness, directing attention away from myself and onto another, not entirely real, persona. So much of the time I was dancing with fear. These days I have a more balanced approach to dealing with such twinges of shyness and self-consciousness, something more of a realistic approach to dealing with fears and anxieties – but they are not entirely absent; I have to swallow hard and overcome them. Sometimes it is very difficult. (It’s hard to explain to someone who has never struggled with the feeling of self-consciousness – that literal shrinking inside of you, begging to be elsewhere).

We all have factors in our lives which we deal with regularly. Things which lead us on a dance we do not like, filling up our dance cards until there is simply no room for anyone else. These factors can be anything: fear, worry, bitterness, anger, addiction, or very specific things that only we (& God) know about. They take their toll on us. I have learned from my experience with Chronic Fatigue that even confidence requires energy – on a physically bad day, overcoming that innate self-consciousness is much, much harder. And tiredness, of course, makes us more susceptible to these things – it makes me more susceptible to fear’s advances. And these advances, of course, tire me further.

It’s good to have a realistic view of these things in our lives, to acknowledge their presence – to note what inflames them or makes them more difficult to overcome. In this way we can learn to manage our ‘dance card’ better. Personally, I want to dance a different dance.

I want love to be my constant interrupter:
can I cut in?

For love is the nemesis of fear, overcoming those ‘twinges’ with a greater reality. In its true form, love is stronger, bigger, more powerful. I need no longer feel self-conscious because I am simply not dwelling on myself at all. I wish to reach the point when I am compelled to dance only by the love of Christ, nothing less.

I’m longing for the day when all the negative things inside me are ejected from the dance floor forever. When I will no longer know in part, but know fully the one who loves me and leads me on the greatest dance of all. When everything falls into it’s rightful place, placed into perfect perspective.

And I shall dance and dance and dance…
…and never, ever, tire.

***

Picture credit: 'Dance at Bougival' by Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841-1919), Public Domain image