Today’s post is simply just another example of my love for words and the use of them. This word is most certainly an oddity. It is an idiosyncratic word that many would have trouble knowing the definition for, and would probably not give a second glance at in the first place. Its meaning will remain a mystery in that I have a need to write and said scribble has nothing to do with the title’s definition which is not germane to any form of experience I have in my life. It came into the inbox this morning and it made me smile. My smirk felt agreeable in that there has been a recent deficiency of delight in my demeanor (oh I do so love assonance!) and a particular lack of muse for the all hallowed written word.
I will, once more, launch an effort to invigorate the reading trends of the population of the cosmos soon, and have commenced the exercises necessary to awaken muse. Two of my three books have been derived from a writing exercise I practice called Morning Pages taught by the wondrous Julia Cameron, author of, among many other things, a joyous book entitled “The Artist Way.” I give kudos to this mentor in the hopes that, perhaps others will read and enjoy this marvelous lesson in artistry.
It is a simple exercise. Every day, preferably in the morning, one sits down and writes three pages. Not necessarily three pages with a purpose, but a simple filling of three pages with writing. It has always been an incubator for the creative process in me, and I do not for a minute believe that I am alone in that. I call them daily writing and get to them at some point in the day. I am not the most joyous of risers in the AM and need time to get going. Most of the time, I have to push the accelerator on my truck an additional amount just to get to work on time. Being a school teacher there is always the “Good Morning Mr. Reilly, are we watching a movie today?” thing to exist through or the “Can I get a drink/go to the bathroom” gig that is every teachers early morning routine. Then there is the lesson and conversation, and the subsequent tumultuous groan when the day’s first assignment is given. Teaching is a wonderful profession if not monotonously predictable.
Anyhoo, I usually get to my writing later in the day and having just restarted this exercise, I have been writing stream of consciousness as opposed to an actual scripted form. I have a disability where it comes to my handwriting. My father likened it to what chickens’ leaves as they search the yard for food. My eyes usually have an inability to read that which I put on paper and it has created some embarrassment in my life. I do not wish to tear up the wise words I write out of anger or frustration at my debility, so I type them. Not anyone who will win awards for speed or accuracy, I type at a speed that allows the creative juices to be accessed and the words to be appreciated. One full single-spaced typewritten page is approximately equivalent to three handwritten pages (seven hundred and fifty words) and it gets the job done. I like the days when it is a ten or fifteen minute exercise and I find irritation in those days that the technique is absent or withholding itself from me. On those infrequent days when I struggle, I make words that do not follow and get to the end of the page as best I can. I make it a point to tell my daughter that I love her as well as anyone else that I feel amity for on that particular day.
Today, as I have inferred earlier, is a day when the juices are semi-running and I am attempting to make sense. I have to go and get back in bed for a while as I am not feeling well, and I have to return some phone calls, but on the whole, my effort towards seven hundred and fifty words has proven gratifying. I will leave you with a simple thought both apropos of life as well as writing…
“The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending, then having the two as close together as possible.”