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After I wrote for today’s brain dump I read a bit of Louise Bogan’s memoir. She and I have far too much in common.
Then I retyped the brain dump and added a few salient notes. I encourage you to do the same. When you type up handwritten notes, add nuggets in small slices. Keep the voice of stream of consciousness, free flow writing strong – and if clarity isn’t there, a few phrases will make it easier for your future readers.
So – my “re-start” is in the form of a Louise Bogan quote.
“I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.”
Right here, right now I wsee Alice, Strunk and White flowers and my aware alert writing or my attempt at aware and alert writing.
I think about connecting the three, tuning into the word flow of intuition, intentionally. The infinite messages underneath the words and I smell the cedarwood oils I have flowing throughout the room to further spur my writing.
I see vapors, but that would make four and I try so valiantly to stick to the instructions even when they are my own.
Alice is my companion. Technically she is Emma’s cat AND she is my pal. She reminds me life happens. Things get knocked off tables. Sometimes I throw up and make messes, metaphorically and actually. Sometimes (more often than I would admit to people I am trying to impress) I leave the messes where they are, I don’t clear them out right away. I just shrug and turn.
It isn’t a good practice like this writing is, like confession is and I turn to the Strunk and White Flowers which remind me, revision and red-marks are good. The teacher who writes in red all over your paper is meaning to help, not harm.
We make it harm when our ego is larger than the possibilities we present, when we are so unpracticed at breaking and glueing ourselves back together because of an unwillingness to step into scary crevices, cracks and grab onto the teeth of a forklift without safety goggles or gloves or even…. Any of it.
We grab on and let it lift us and sometimes we fall into an ugly glob on the ground and police come along and do that outline of our splat and a blood splatter expert comes along and says her smart stuff about how our splat erupted and what it says.
That’s Alice throwing up and Strunk and White blood splattering and my once final draft, now in revision and repurposing paradise notes. Makes me wonder how much stuff I can create from this once-finished work. I turn to Strunk-and-White who remind me editing is sweet, not scary, as is revision and repurposing.
“The possibilities are infinite” I am reminded.
Is that Alice purring in her sleep?