I don't really know her work, but her name is really cool.
The entire month practically gone, and no blog post for January. New Years' resolutions are something I gave up with Barbies and a complete, unquestioned faith in Santa Claus. (Hey, I said "unquestioned faith" not total disbelief -- I believe...I just have serious questions, is all.)
Many times, in a quiet moment, I'd sit at the computer and try to come up with a post, but nothing ever gelled. One of the most disturbing parts of being a writer, is forging ahead in spite of feeling that every word that flies off your fingertips is complete and total garbage.
You know, my daughters, both of them like to write. When I bring my little Dana along, if I'm not using it, one of them is sitting with it in their lap tippity tapping something out. It's heartwarming, and it's astonishing, too. They, both of them, sit down with no angst, no worry, no hemming and hawing... and they write. They don't futz over whether or not it's publishable. They don't squirm when I read it (or when they are writing it...) Afterwards, they are proud of it -- "Look what I did, Mom!" -- and they don't go back to it obsessively tweaking over and over, picking at it like so much lint on a sweater until it's "perfect" ...but bland.
And the kicker? The stories are usually good. I mean really good. Imaginative, inventive, colorful, evocative... with characters that jump off the page. Are the stories "perfect"? No, heck no. They have surprisingly few spelling errors (my youngest especially is a very good speller), and a few grammar errors...but that is beside the point, and we all know it. Those things can be easily corrected. The creativity and spontaneity they exhibit in their stories I hope will never be edited away.
When I think of their writing, of course, I'm proud of them, although I don't feel proprietary -- I try real hard not to live through them. I try to say as little as possible that isn't along the lines of "Wow, thank you so much for sharing this with me! I'm honored!" They'll have teachers in their future, likely in college (hopefully they will be able to go to college) who will smash their work to bits -- come on, I had plenty of those types of professors, and I know you did too -- so I'm gonna be firmly ensconced in their cheering section.
Reflecting on this careless, reckless abandon with which they approach their own writing...I often wonder if a "little child shall lead them" in my case...and if I can absorb a smidgen of that careless, reckless abandon in my own writing?
So...other than a quick spellchecker on this puppy, I'm going to embrace that ideology and let this blog post ride, as hammered out in first draft style. And hopefully, in a small way, it can kick off a little bit of psychic 'new years' resolution' in my soul, and inspire me to approach all my other writing in the same way. It's something I've been attempting since the 2007 NaNo -- to give that inner editor a bottomless cup of aromatic Joe, drop her into a cushy chair with lots of books around her and tell her I'll be back in a few hours -- when I'm done recklessly hammering out whatever chapter I happen to be writing.
Here's to the new year!
