Posts Tagged ‘books’

Am I built of

more than flesh?

Then, what will remain

when I’m laid to rest?

 

A Heart of Pure gold,

and Ivory bones?

Or Papers and Books,

and a Will like Stone?

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One-dozen to twenty Volumes

I could Assign to your Name,

but I Dare not publish Them,

or put Both you and I to shame.

Out

as a candle

dims and breathes its last

dark gray curl of smoke.

Out of the clutter,

the hands of loved ones

not to far off,

the bookshelves standing

like sentinels,

the bedroom walls boarding your body in,

but not your breath,

not your spirit.

You were not afraid.

Fear of death

is for the young people.

You lived long enough, well

enough. It was time

to say goodbye

to it all.

And so you did.

Caught between lovers,

cat fights, heartbreak.

Caught in that grey area

where clarity comes

naturally, and wisdom flows

out like ink from a pen.

And it shifts, revolves.

The position is temporary.

Every friend is a middle man,

listening to stories- and nodding,

giving advice- not knowing

what is the wholly right thing to say,

opening and reading the pages

of their companion’s autobiography.

At the same time,

opening mouths wide

to flash white teeth in ecstasy,

cradling themselves

in the corner of a room

while listening to sad music,

and

writing their own stories.

“If pain demands to be felt, I say: welcome it, but don’t let it overstay its welcome.”- Original

“That’s the thing about pain…it demands to be felt.”- Augustus Waters, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

Here’s my problem with people ‘reading’ people: People aren’t concepts. They aren’t finished books- they’re stories that are constantly being edited.

Yes. The dreaded disease that plagues all writers at some point or another: Writer’s Block.

I’ve dealt with this numerous (which is to say: many, many, many) times, the longest time having lasted about two weeks.

So, how does one deal with this? I’m gonna’ have to go back to Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, for this.

In that book (which I highly recommend) Anne Lamott addresses the fact that sometimes, you just need to LEAVE IT ALONE. Welcome distractions. By this I mean go do something else. Take a walk downtown, or visit a park. Watch a movie. Listen to music. Distract yourself from writing anything. In all honesty, this is what works best for me. If you sleep on an idea, or just ignore it and get out there, you’ll find inspiration from the real world!

In these cases, you can always ring a small memo pad, or a notebook, or your laptop, and just jot down whatever you see. Write a description of the sidewalk. Write whatever. You could even eavesdrop and write down what people are saying as dialogue (tip: if you have your laptop or iPod, you can pretend to listen to music by putting your headphones on, but not actually playing anything). And before you call me out for being creepy, authors do this since Jane Austen’s time, the technique has just been refined.   

Another thing you can try, which is just the opposite of what I previously suggested, is just write. I know, I know, this is writer’s block. It’s where you just sit and stare at a blank piece of paper or your computer screen and nothing’s coming. Hear me out. Sometimes all you can do is just write about ANYTHING. The first idea that pops into your head, however stupid, dull, or all around crappy it may seem, just WRITE ABOUT IT! Heck, you could even write about writer’s block (*cough*), and there ya go!

So what if you write something that’s crappy? There’s always something to unearth, no matter how frustrating it may be to find.