Wednesday 2 November 2011

Writing is Such Sweet Agony




Some weeks are very quiet, nothing at all out of the ordinary happens and going grocery shopping is about as exciting as it gets. Weeks that feel a bit like pulling a steam engine uphill by a strap over your shoulder.
(I had to get a picture in, even though there will be no further mention of steam engines and they have absolutely nothing to do with this post)

Then there are weeks that are full of chores and appointments, the dog needs the vet, a doctor's visit is due, the washing machine needs fixing and even the book you're reading is the most boring tome, destined for the charity shop pile.

Occasionally, weeks take flight, leaving you breathless and exhilarated; I've just had one of the latter. Not that they happen very often, I probably couldn't stand the pace for more than one week at a time. As it is, I am glad the weather has turned gloomy and cold, giving me the perfect excuse to put my feet up and watch documentaries on tv for the rest of the day.

It started with an impromptu dinner party at my house. Some friends are going away for a month and we felt like having a convivial evening before they left. I also invited another guest whose work frequently takes him away from Valley's End. All three are connected with literature, drama and writing and all three are the sort of guests a hostess dreams of: lively, intelligent, without food fads and foibles and happy to drink a glass of wine or two. Okay, you might say, there are lots of people like that. Yes, there are, not lots, but some; what made these people stand out as far as this hostess is concerned is the fact that they all appreciate my writing! A blogger friend said in a comment the other day that I don't seem to be fishing for applause for my posts. Oh, but Mary D., you are wrong, I like applause as much as the next person, and to have these people come right out and say how much they liked my pieces in the local paper  absolutely made my evening.

More stimulation followed a day later. I belong to a group of people who get together once a fortnight to speak German. I am the only native German speaker, the others are British and their command of the language is varied.  Sometimes the afternoon is dead boring, people stumble over words and I am constantly translating and explaining. This time we took an easily understandable piece from a German newspaper about warring neighbours; people who fight each other to the death about a parking space outside their homes or chuck dustbins through windows when the volume of late night music becomes more than somebody can bear. And God help you if you let your sheep stray beyond your own land and they trespass and nibble the grass in my meadow!  Human nature is the same the world over, we all have similar stories to tell and we all enjoy a malicious snicker about the misfortune of others occasionally.

My special pleasure derives from standing just a fraction of a millimetre on the periphery and watching the show.

The writers' group seems to have found a firm base. No doubt, the cast of characters will change as we go along but the ones who were there this week all seemed seriously interested. We had some really good work presented to the group: an Irishman brought a fantastic poem on 'The Troubles', which he read in a broad Irish accent. Once the vague old lady had finally found one of the two poems she wanted to read - she never found the other - she turned in a marvellously lyrical piece of work about a small child growing up by the river Severn; she is obviously still the same, unfocussed, dreamer she was then, living in a world to which few earthlings have access. I asked how long she had been writing poetry and she said:

"I was taken away from home when I was three, when my mother died, and never knew where home had been. My teacher at school allowed me to sit in the library when other children had reading practice and I found the book of poetry. One of the poems said: 'I remember, I remember / The house where I was born / The little window where the sun / came peeping in at morn; (a poem by Thomas Hood). So I thought that poets must be very special people, because they knew where home was and if I became one then maybe I would remember too."

And finally, as the newsreaders say, all this literature has made my own fingers itch to pick up a discarded piece of work and start again. For one whole day this week I have been sitting at the computer composing a new chapter of a memoir, about just one day. I had planned to read this piece to the writers' group, but it grew and grew and is still not completed. The work flowed easily, I am happy with what I have written so far, and I will continue with it. As I said to my friend Deborah, who is going through similar birth pangs (she won't thank me for saying this out loud), "If I don't do it now, I never will".

And that might be the reason why you will see a little less of me round here.

48 comments:

  1. Let that steam engine ... just slide down the slope of its own accord, Friko. If we see less of you (which I very much doubt) that's sad. But it's all in a good and creative cause!

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  2. wow the writing bug def bit you on that chapter...smiles...the writing group sounds really cool...as does that lady...thanks for capturing her story...

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  3. All power to your elbow...er...pen...er...keyboard! ♥

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  4. With the talent you possess, you absolutely do need to write. I do hope we will get to read your published memoirs.

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  5. It is certainly an impressive tractor.

    Greetings,
    Filip

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  6. I'm with the Solitary Walker on this one, which is to say that I have serious doubts that you will be gone for long. Whatever the case, I sympathize with the need to fade in and fade out from time to time. Penning a memoir is an admirable pursuit and I wish you the very best.

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  7. I finally have a too cold day too windy day with finally a valid reason to avoid outdoor work, so we are snuggled up reading you, thanks. I do need to start a cake and do dishes, though, and return to some drawing. Stir, in several ways. I find few poets in my real world, but several through the window of my iPad.

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  8. Hello:
    What a marvellous feeling it is to be stimulated to DO something. Clearly the events of the week have sharpened your creative spirit and fuelled your imagination. More power to your pen as we, your loyal readers hang by your coat tails for the ride!!

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  9. We'll miss you, there's no doubt about that. You have become one of my favourite writers.

    Kay, Alberta, Canada
    An Unfittie’s Guide to Adventurous Travel

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  10. I wonder if the writing bug will ever bite ME that way. It was a spoiler to spend so many years of my life in my job being forced to read bad science writing and make it devoid of any character so it could be published. :-)

    I hope you continue to do what makes you this happy. It's contagious! :-)

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  11. There'd be nothing wrong with giving us a little exerpt here! Just to whet our appetites for publishing day!

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  12. My friend Manfred was born in Germany & various people are always trying to get him to "teach me German." He has told me he would rather have an organ removed.
    ;o So you are indeed a good person to help them out. You seem to have a lot on your plate, but I think you like it that way. ~Mary

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  13. You are a marvelous writer - I can imagine losing myself in your memoir. I hope we get glimpses of it here. If not, I'll wait patiently for your next missive, as the pleasure is always worth wait.

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  14. "A deafening round of applause bursts Friko's eardrum".

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  15. Such a stunning vignette of that little old lady writer. We barely understand what twists us and turns us until we have the time to really think about it. You can get lots of applause from me anytime. I also wish I had your life. So interesting and intellectual. I am still searching for my place in this new home and with my recent injury and the cold weather just around the corner....oh well...that would make me a really boring dinner guest.

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  16. I understand and was delighted to see you check in!!!! I'm pretty busy myself these days!!!!

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  17. Not being around is bad. Not being around because you're writing is good.

    I'm conflicted.

    Pearl

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  18. This will be a case where less done here is bound to yield, in the longer run, much more. I look forward to the chance to read the results!

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  19. Friko, do keep going with the writing. Perhaps that steam engine is a sort of techno muse?

    xo

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  20. Well, I fully understand that. there's been a little less of me lately. now or never, indeed.

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  21. I love to write but sometimes it's like kicking rocks......but you! You seem surrounded by such stimulating and inspiring people and places it makes me feel I'm sinking in a stagnant pond here!

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  22. I'm happy you had a jolt of inspiration to write! Applause! Applause! Who doesn't love applause?

    I can imagine that being the only native German speaker in a group of trying-to-speakers would be hugely frustrating. A human German-English dictionary, that's you.

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  23. that feeling of the words just rushing out through your fingertips...exhilarating.
    keep it up.

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  24. I hope you can hear my applause, because I am doing so--for this marvelous post--very loudly! I am inspired. Please don't stay away too long. :)

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  25. How wonderful to feel it all coming together ! Enjoy !

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  26. Hi Friko,your post is superb, i especially like the pic

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  27. Congrats to you for forging ahead!!
    The dinner party sounded fantastic!
    Nothing like good friends, good food and great conversation!!
    Hugs
    SueAnn

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  28. I'm glad you included the story of the woman who at three decided to become a poet in your interesting week. Best wishes on your writing. What matters is that you are filling your soul, or speaking from her.

    I see that you have recently read Anne Michaels' Fugitive Pieces, one of my very favorite books. She is poetic in her prose (I prefer her prose to her poetry, actually), and I feel that I never need write a book of fiction, because she wrote this book.

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  29. YYYEEEEESSSSSS!!! I'm so pleased to read this - especially the 'flowed easily' and 'happy so far' parts. And in addition (you brilliant mentor, you) I have come away with a solution (perhaps) to my usual problems of timelines, chronology etc. Write about one day. Don't say it, please. I know I can't see the forest for the trees half the time.
    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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  30. We all need applause, so here it is: clap clap clap clappety-clap clap clap clap (bravo from the centre) clap clap clap clappety (dog whistle from the side) clap clap clap (look those people are standing - leaving early? no: standing OVATION) clap clap clap clap clap ...

    best of luck with the witing Friko

    Isabel x

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  31. I'm with Pearl: sorry you won't be about, but happy you're writing - especially if it's really flowing for you.

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  32. Hi Friko - no worries .. if you're doing what you want to do .. and you write so well - it will be a fascinating read. Well worth waiting for .. all the best I'll be rooting for you from down south! Cheers Hilary

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  33. Well, if it's birthing you're about, we may all benefit in the end. And Deborah writes lovely stuff, too, doesn't she?

    That little paragraph about the vague lady and her lost home...that is a jewel of a story.

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  34. You have the writer's gift of flow and the publisher's sense to make it 750 words or less. A winning combination.

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  35. The day or week I see less of you will be a sad one. I think of you as a member of my Internet writier's group. I wish I had one-tenth of your creative talent. Dianne

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  36. Dear Friko, the story told by the poet in your group of wanting to remember her home touched me deeply. It is poignant and speaks to the longing we all have to come home in some way.

    Your memoir writing may do this for you--take you home so that you might discover the treasure of your childhood. At least that is what has been happening for me as I write my on-line memoir.

    I admire you for setting aside time from your blog to do what may be now--or will become--a guiding passion to light the way to understanding.

    Peace, ever and always.

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  37. I am standing up and clapping wildly. I hope you can hear it.

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  38. Long may the words flow and lightly - don't forget to take a break now and then:-)

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  39. You write so beautifully, and I'm glad to hear that you are working at it so avidly. Good for you.

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  40. Good for you! I am so happy that the writing is going well (the very best reason for being away from your blog; this will wait, the other cannot).

    Thank you for including the story of the woman who became a poet. It's lovely, and there is some truth in the quotation. Carry on, Friko. All best to you.

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  41. Events lately have given me more time to read blogs so I am pleased to read yours again. Good luck with the memoir, I am sure it will be brilliant.

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  42. Let those words pour onto the page (or screen). Someday we may see your name on a cover and say, "I knew her when..."

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  43. I love times as you describe when I am stimulated intellectually, emotionally, or spiritually at one encounter after another. Those times can be rare.

    If you have been productive writing that chapter in your memoir, then I think you were using your time as you should. I say those words to myself quite often, "If I don't do it now, I never will." I still have not to get serious about starting to work on a memoir. I must say, I would love to read yours.

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  44. I imagine that you have been working through the memoir, in your mind, for a long time. So, now that your stars are all aligned in your favour, it is ready to be born.

    Like your other admirers, I send my good wishes.

    Anna

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  45. I hope we'll still see you around - but of course I'd encourage you to take the time to work on a memoir. Life fills up, passes too quickly, gets confusing. Write while you have the lust, the time and all the other necessary elements.

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  46. Also gut. Scheibe viel und komm bald wider zu ins.

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  47. Thanks for the nudge, F, I hear you!
    Blissful days are dawning on you and I hope to bask in the leftovers.
    XO
    WWW

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Comments are good, I like to know what you think of my posts. I know you'll keep it civil.