Leaving for Rome and Israel in seven days. I will be gone for an entire month. Wow. When I look out my favorite window, which I do every morning, I see black and white, snow, branches of trees, slush. I’m headed out for a walk. It’s warm today, in the 30′s. Rome and Israel are in the 50′s, 60′s and 70′s. I will miss February in Minnesota, winter and cold. Yes. I did just say that and I did just mean what I said. I will miss the February winter in Minnesota, all bleak and blue and cold. It makes us strong, I think, or it makes us cold or Minnesotan or grateful or depressed. You can blame winter for all sorts of things but I wouldn’t ever want to live without it!
March 29, 2012
Author Robert Olen Butler who wrote From Where You Dream, a book on writing fiction, says that getting into the zone for writing is “pure torture” (page 24). A writer would, of course, choose to dramatize a process over making it accessible through language. You almost can’t blame him. After all, he’s giving away all his writing secrets and that’s damn generous. However, if it was “pure torture”, as he says it is, would I really do it every day. No, I wouldn’t. I’m not one for pain. Is there a way into the dream state other than through pure torture?
According to Butler, whose book has provoked considerable controversy among writers, every piece of writing must originate with the “dreamstate”. Any willfully conscious work will result in pure dreck, embarrassing stuff that one wants to destroy before the world gets a whiff. And truly I often write such trash. I must confess that sometimes I record the noise in my head which, according to Butler, would nail me as a writer with no talent. (Include Natalie Goldberg “free writing” and Anne Lamotte’s “shitty first draft” in that category?) “When you turn off that flow of garbage in your head,… you’re turning off abstract and analytical metawords.” Voice,” says Butler, “is the embodiment in language of the contents of your unconscious.” I love that definition. I love that direction. Yet, when Butler also says “most journals are repositories of great swatches of abstraction and generalization and self-analysis and interpretation and all that bad stuff, I am jarred out of my dream state, my love affair with Butler’s ideas because I love to journal, self-analyze, and interpret, all that bad stuff.
I wonder, isn’t there a place for all of it? Isn’t Butler being a bit evangelical in his criticism of lit-crit and writing approached from the head? Must we really succumb to torture, as he says we must, in order to write good fiction?
I have not won any Pulitzer prizes and Butler has so it’s safe to say that what he has to say about writing good fiction should carry more weight than what I have to say. However, I am reminded of a quote I just came across yesterday by Michel d Montague in which he praised the habit or determination of having one’s life belong to oneself. I am determined to read and try out Butler’s recipe for writing good fiction. It sounds fascinating and fun, even if torturous (being raised Catholic, I am, perhaps, a bit prone to masochism). However, I will not be abandoning my journal-writing altogether, the stuff that flows from my head,so readily flows from there, even if it is junk. I feel a sort of fondness for my junk, almost a kind of warmth towards it. I don’t care for making “my mind the enemy (Butler, page 23). My mind, like my body and like my sensual experiences, is a gift and doesn’t deserve to be cast aside. Rather, I will learn to synthesize the two, mind and sensual experience, though I’m probably dreaming. But then that would mean I’m in the dream-state. Hurrah for me!
Just finished the Saint Paul Classic on Sunday, September 11, 2011, the 10th anniversary of the Twin Towers destruction and just four days after my 60th birthday. The weather was absolutely and without a doubt perfect for a 6000 person bike ride.
Starting out was the best part, pedaling forward with a group of about fifty people, the beginning of a 24 mile trip around the Mississippi and through the new Lilydale route, my husband, Marty, and my good friend, Evelyn, in front, behind, and/or by my side.
The conversation had the steady rhythm of the push down on the pedals. At one point Marty and I discussed a recent spat and resolved it. Who would’ve thunk that bicycling is every bit as good and not as expensive as a good marriage therapy session.
The climb up the notorious Ramsey Hill, the third climb of the day, was the biggest challenge of the ride. At the top of the hill, volunteers applauded our efforts and handed out free buttons.
My plan is to do this ride every year for the rest of my life. It was that good.
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/maryaltermanwrites is the link to purchasing my books and screenplays. My most recent screenplay, “the Pink Pussycat Boutique” is the story of how I met my beloved in the quirky setting of a sex boutique shop in the Village in New York. It is part fiction/part memoir (I’ll let the reader guess which is which).
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