I am made of so much shame and misunderstanding that I find it almost impossible to write personal essays that don't somehow put myself down. I want to shed that, turn from it, find ways to see the stories of my life that enable me to focus my gaze--outward or inward--and see goodness, beauty. What are the scenes and luminosities and resonant sources I am *actually* made of? I suppose I am out with lanterns, as it were, looking for my lovable self. Then I hope for my writing to become more true.
P.S. Several years ago, I wrote a five-things or maybe seven-things essay in response, I think, from one of your workshop prompts. I remember where I was sitting when I wrote it, what some of it was about, but I can't find it!
Thank you for these comments, Rebecca! Yes, I've been thinking a lot about different ways to tell a story ... Mostly the story of one's life/self/"journey" so far. Maybe you could do an exercise where you write down five different (3-sentence) versions of your story, writing toward the luminous one(s)?
And I hope you find your old piece! Hate it when that happens. I bet it turns up ...
Joanna, I love that idea. I can imagine the practice changing me, especially if I do it over time. So I think I will. Thank you.
Makes me think of a recent workshop I was in based on Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones (which I haven't actually), where we were to write for ten minutes about something--anything--as if we love it, then ten as if we hate it, then ten neutral. I wrote reviews of Erdrich's Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, and the outcome was fun and surprisingly telling. Not that I want to write as though I hate myself. But I wonder if I did, would I quickly turn from it? "No, that's not what I really think.... I know that's not true...."
It showed up! :) I may post it on my Substack sometime; I'll link you.
Love your piece on Imbolc and noticing and keep the list and the important of a poet/writer learning to see even when not trying. My recent "Life at Land's End" came from that kind of moment of suddenly seeing...thanks for all you write and share, Joanna!
I am made of so much shame and misunderstanding that I find it almost impossible to write personal essays that don't somehow put myself down. I want to shed that, turn from it, find ways to see the stories of my life that enable me to focus my gaze--outward or inward--and see goodness, beauty. What are the scenes and luminosities and resonant sources I am *actually* made of? I suppose I am out with lanterns, as it were, looking for my lovable self. Then I hope for my writing to become more true.
P.S. Several years ago, I wrote a five-things or maybe seven-things essay in response, I think, from one of your workshop prompts. I remember where I was sitting when I wrote it, what some of it was about, but I can't find it!
Thank you for these comments, Rebecca! Yes, I've been thinking a lot about different ways to tell a story ... Mostly the story of one's life/self/"journey" so far. Maybe you could do an exercise where you write down five different (3-sentence) versions of your story, writing toward the luminous one(s)?
And I hope you find your old piece! Hate it when that happens. I bet it turns up ...
Joanna, I love that idea. I can imagine the practice changing me, especially if I do it over time. So I think I will. Thank you.
Makes me think of a recent workshop I was in based on Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones (which I haven't actually), where we were to write for ten minutes about something--anything--as if we love it, then ten as if we hate it, then ten neutral. I wrote reviews of Erdrich's Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, and the outcome was fun and surprisingly telling. Not that I want to write as though I hate myself. But I wonder if I did, would I quickly turn from it? "No, that's not what I really think.... I know that's not true...."
It showed up! :) I may post it on my Substack sometime; I'll link you.
I'm glad the idea sounds useful to you! I was thinking of doing something similar for myself. So, we can both try it!
Oh, that's really interesting about the exercise from the Goldberg-inspired workshop. I love that.
And nice about the older piece showing up! Hurrah!
Love your piece on Imbolc and noticing and keep the list and the important of a poet/writer learning to see even when not trying. My recent "Life at Land's End" came from that kind of moment of suddenly seeing...thanks for all you write and share, Joanna!
Thank you, Eileen! (And I owe you an email!)