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On Life and Writing. Or, the #Writing Life (or…if only)

“If only life were like a Jules Verne novel, thinks Marie-Laure, and you could page ahead when you most needed, and learn what would happen.” ~ from All the Things We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

If only we could page ahead.

I’ve been talking a lot to writers, to myself, to the Universe, about expectations and dreams and my (seemingly) bouts of failure and how I want so badly to know what’s ahead so that I might plan for and prepare. For either the best case scenario or the worst (but let’s face it, I generally consider how to prepare for the worst).

What I really want to know is should I keep working on this writing project or that one. Which one will get me where I want to be? Does a finished novel make me an official author? Does a collection of short stories mark me as an emerging writer? Does one more published essay under my belt qualify me for…what?

I waste a lot of time trying to figure out if I’m wasting my time.

The truth is, all I have is today and this page–or this screen–in front of me.

I could drop everything and finish my book or push out a few more essays or cull those short stories into the perfect multi-media collection (complete with a musical score…I have ideas, people!).

But to drop everything would mean halting my streak of Author Q&A’s, and I learn a ton from reading books inside and outside my comfort zone and talking with authors who’s style may be entirely different from my own.

I would have to cancel my online courses, starting with the one I’ve got going on right now, Principles & Prompts, where we’re talking about creativity and story, about anxiety and fear, and how to know if/when our writing is worth it. I value those discussions with other writers as 1) they remind me I’m not alone and 2) they inspire me with new insights and perspectives.

I would have to let go entirely of the group at Harwood Place. And if anything inspires me to keep on keeping on, it’s that group of writers, most of whom are 90 years old and above. They don’t worry about which project is THE project they should be working on. They just do. And they have fun. And if their stories get heard by another person, all the more joy.

So, maybe that’s it: the joy is what matters.

I may never know if the time spent on this novel-in-the making has been worth it. I may not realize for a long time that this blog is worth every hour spent crafting one post and the next. But I have fun dipping my pen into certain projects and formatting the perfect photo for the random post. It’s the little things.

Don’t think I’m forgetting about the novel or the collection of stories. But just for today, I won’t beg for a peek at the future. Instead, I’ll hold fast to the knowledge that if what I’m doing guides me through the dark and carries me into some literary light, then I am in the right place at the right time to witness more of the story, yours and mine.

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On #Writing Prompts: Guest post by Maura Fitzgerald

For the last several years, I’ve been the sole teacher for a group of senior citizens in a Creative Writing Class at Harwood Place Retirement Living Center. This year, I invited a fellow writer, Maura Fitzgerald, to join me as co-teacher. She’s taken on the role with enthusiasm and dedication. (It’s tough to get up early on a Saturday morning to talk essays and poetry and “homework for next month.” Ask the seniors, they just requested to push the start time to a half an hour later!). Today, Maura shares a bit about teaching, about students young and old, and about the power and mystery in prompts. And yes, she leaves you with an assignment.

In Praise of Prompts

by Maura Fitzgerald

I once gave a group of 8th graders the prompt, When I am hungry…, and said “No rules. Just write.” Surely this exercise for kids who are almost always hungry would unleash their creative wild child to roam free across the blank page and leave a trail of original thoughts and insights. Instead, hands shot up. “Do you mean what do I eat when I’m hungry?” or “When I’m hungry for what?” and “I’m never hungry.”

Several students responded to the ‘hungry’ prompt by simply writing “I eat,” or they listed favorite foods. (Okay, prompts don’t always work.) But others were surprising and fresh on the page: A brief conversation between a girl and her empty, gurgling stomach; A boy who stuffed himself with fortune cookies for nutrition and wisdom.  Same prompt, very different treks across the vacant space.

Recently, I gave our group of writers at Harwood Place the essay, “The Potato Harvest,” by April Monroe, in which she describes how easily her garden surrenders to the approaching autumn.  After reading the essay, the group’s prompt was “Surrender.” Around the edges of the silence that followed, I sensed discomfort with the prompt. But I let it be. Prompts don’t come with comfort scores. In fact, discomfort can sometimes butt-kick a pen like nothing else. (Try it sometime with a prompt that chafes or confounds and confuses.)

The students—young and old—reacted like many writers do when facing a prompt. We crave directions for traversing the wide-open landscape of empty paper. Give me a destination and show me the landmarks along the way. Please. A compass might help, too.

The thing is, prompts come without instructions. On purpose. That’s why they work. Creativity holes up in unexpected places, so a writer must put pen to paper and follow the prompt to the unexpected.

While many writers don’t use written prompts, we encounter them daily.

A  waitress’s hairy arms or the brick-solid nurse whose name tag says Taffy. Sunday voices spreading salvation through open church doors. Sounds and sights and smells to catalogue for future use. Details that say, “follow me.”

Used items from MECCA, a clearinghouse in Eugene, Oregon that’s filled with scraps and discards for creative use—a clearinghouse of prompts. Newspapers and magazines from the 50s, family photo albums, previously sent greeting cards and letters, unusual postage stamps. I don’t need any of it. And I’m no hoarder. But there are countless items that prey on my curiosity. Who wrote this 1942 letter and what’s with the photo of the man and goat on the porch? I always leave with a bag of treasures competing for Prompt of the Day.

Even the local crime report: “Mints, a phone charger, and a softball were taken from a locked car…”  Who takes mints and a softball? Write about it.

Or park yourself in any airport or Laundromat and scribble away.

Go ahead, grab hold of a prompt and let it pull you in. Relax and enjoy the ride.

I’ll leave you with this prompt, a few lines from Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “I am a Town.”

I’m the language of the natives, I’m a cadence and a drawl
I’m the pines behind the graveyard, and the cool beneath their shade….

Read the full lyrics to the song here. Then, write details of a town from the viewpoint of the town.

Maura Fitzgerald has written nonprofit grant, marketing and communications, annual reports, and campaign appeals. Her nonfiction has appeared in Milwaukee Magazine and her fiction in Pank. Her writing has been featured on Milwaukee Public Radio, and she has done public readings at Fixx Coffee Shop and Woodland Pattern Book Center. She has taught creative writing to 8th and 9th grade students through Pathways Milwaukee, and presently co-leads the Harwood Place Writers Group with Christi.

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Radio Spotlight: The Writers at Harwood Place on
A Space for Poetry

A few months ago, James Roberts made an early morning drive from Madison, Wisconsin to spend an hour with the writers at Harwood Place. He had been there before as a visiting poet but returned this time as interviewer and Radio Host of A Space for Poetry. His radio show airs every other Friday on WWMV (95.5) in Madison, and you can listen to the archives on Soundcloud.com (just search “A Space for Poetry”).

Many thanks to James, who shined a light via the airwaves on the poets and writers at Harwood Place. You’ve read me go on and on about their good work. Now, you can listen to them read a few of their pieces out loud by clicking the play button below.

Some of my favorites: “Thoughts After Hearing a Poet Speak” (Betty Sydow), “An Experience with Color” (Richard Borchers), and Chuck Mortiz’s “An Ode to Christi Craig”…. (Hey, that’s me!)