by Elizabeth Statmore
Writing this book is the loneliest journey I have ever been on.
Nothing even compares — not divorce, not mental illness, not
abandonment, not the murder of my best friend from high school. Not
therapy. Not meditation.
The other day I told Natalie how hard I am finding this last stretch.
She agreed sympathetically and compared it to giving birth. “At the
end, you really have to push.”
A thought occurred to me. “So is there an epidural when you get to
this part?”
She laughed. “No painkillers. Just screaming.”
Some days I wonder if this is how the deeply delusional feel in
psychiatric hospitals. I shuffle around the house in my socks and a
dark blue sweatshirt, muttering to myself. Just me and my characters.
I hear their voices. They argue and negotiate on the pages of my
spiral notebook. I plug cartridge after cartridge into my Waterman
fountain pen. Black ink only. I can’t bear to see colors these days.
The other night my dharma teacher said, “Intention precedes action.”
I wrote this on a small yellow Post-It and placed it next to the
altar on the far left corner of my desk. On the wall just above it is
a companion Post-It with a recovery saying on it. The saying was
given to me by a fellow writing practice writer. It says, “Motivation
follows action.”
This captures how I am feeling these days. Intention precedes action
and motivation follows it. And I am suspended in the action in the
middle, groundless and beyond grasping, hovering over the edge of the
cliff like the great dharma teacher Wile E. Coyote. I blink into the
camera and feel myself gulp before the fall.
Abandoned Is… is a writing practice written from the Topic post, WRITING TOPIC – “ABANDONED.”
About writing, Elizabeth says: I love the way writing practice lets me crawl through the window of a dream into the spirit world, where wild time is woven together with ordinary time to bind our souls to joy. I began writing practice in 1988, when I discovered Writing Down The Bones at my favorite bookstore, and I began formal study with Natalie Goldberg soon thereafter. Day by day, this practice has taught me to accept my whole mind and to work my way through life one word at a time.
Revisiting my old spiral notebooks reminds me how hard I worked in the learning but more importantly, how hard I had to try. They remind me how I learned to step forward with my own voice and declare, “The only one who limits me is me.” Year in, year out, they remind me how this practice has given me who I am.
In addition to the novel she is writing, Elizabeth is a frequent contributor to KQED-FM’s Perspectives series. If you would like to read more about Elizabeth, visit her website, Elizabeth Statmore. To listen to her work on Perspectives, click on the link, radio.
-posted on red Ravine, Monday, August 13th, 2007
beautiful description of the writing gestation and birthing process.
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Phrases that grabbed me –
Just me and my characters. I hear their voices. They argue and negotiate on the pages of my spiral notebook.
I can’t bear to see colors these days.
I wrote this on a small yellow Post-It and placed it next to the
altar on the far left corner of my desk.
I am suspended in the action in the middle, groundless and beyond grasping, hovering over the edge of the cliff like the great dharma teacher Wile E. Coyote. I blink into the camera and feel myself gulp before the fall.
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Intention precedes action and motivation follows it.
This turns on its head my belief that motivation had to precede action. Yet, yesterday I was void of any motivation, and I felt overwhelmed without knowing why. Maybe I was looking for something that couldn’t come to me no matter how hard I wished it to be there.
I am only starting to digest this quote — intention precedes action and motivation follows it — but already I sense something liberating about saying it over and over.
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I sometimes feel like that about my beadwork…. But it is a loneliness that I enjoy=:)
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Motivation follows action is a recovery phrase I have heard from my sponsor, too. And they are powerful words to live by.
I find so often that I become paralyzed around a certain action and hope and pray that I’ll be motivated to take it. That’s when I remember this phrase – and know that I have to act first – then I will be showered with motivation. It is backwards from everything we are ever taught.
Today is one of those days when I have a difficult action step to take. Thank you for reminding me that Motivation Follows Action. And for writing this post. I am finding it very supportive.
Around the writing part of it – frankly, it scares me that it is so difficult to write (and complete) a book, memoir, article, anything of substance in this world. I am just beginning the process of writing my own memoir. And I have to say it feels daunting.
Every day I try to put one foot in front of the other – and keep up the writing practice and the practice of writing with ybonesy on red Ravine. I am finding strength in this community. Thanks so much for writing with us, Elizabeth.
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One other thing – I was just reminded of something that Natalie often says – if you know ANYONE writing a book (no matter who they are), take them out to dinner, send them a supportive email, tell them how much you appreciate what they are doing. Because it is SO difficult to write a book. And to complete it. So thanks for continuing on! Thanks for writing!
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Wow. How nourishing to have this community to share and witness my process of stepping forward with my project.
I want to say, Don’t be tossed away by the fact that the path is difficult. That’s just another form of monkey mind. I’ve been rereading the Tao Te Ching and this quote keeps jumping out at me:
Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.
There’s nobody out there asking us to step forward with our authentic, individual voices, and yet the entire planet is nourished when we do. Authenticity is contagious — as well as healing.
This practice is powerful. Just keep going.
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Elizabeth, it’s true – there is no one out there asking us to step forward. And the practice really helps me to do that. There is a lot of fear. I’ve had to work hard to learn to befriend my fear. And not try to excommunicate it. I’ve learned so much about it through writing practice. It feels like an old friend!
I don’t think I’ll stop because it’s difficult, though there was a time when I might have. But I do get sidetracked. And there are days when I still have to complain, “This is tough!”
I can see the value in moving forward and stepping back. I like the quote from the Tao. I’m a crab – the sidewinder. I tend to step all different directions before I finally land!
I wondered if you want to talk about how you are using writing practice to write your book? Sometimes it’s hard to make the leap from practice to completed story. It’s been a process for me.
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R3, I wanted to thank you for the Recall. In Recall, we are studying the writer’s mind. You picked out one of the lines that really struck me about Elizabeth’s write – “I can’t bear to see colors these days.” I really had to stop and think about that. And I have to say, I am still pondering it.
Lone Beader – the loneliness. It’s really takes some getting used to. I know what you mean – I like it, too, when I am in the flow or the zone. But there are other days when I feel like Elizabeth – and it’s the loneliest feeling in the world (even though I have tons of support around me). I have kind of love/hate relationship with the lonely part of writing. I have this strange feeling that’s not going to go away.
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This excellent post comes at a perfect time for me right now. There is a part of the process, the intention part where I can get frozen sometimes, a form of hesitation about which of many paths of action to take. At a time like this my journal is handy for listing all the possible actions that might be taken. This is a pregnant, wintery pause, but a necessary gestation period. But once I decide on the action to begin with, that motion forward results in desire for more motion – forward, backward, sideways, under and over – and an excitement sets in, what you might call motivation. I need to remind myself not to panic, and let the process occur as it will – it tends to be contingent on many factors – so I have to remind myself to roll with the waves, if you will, wallow until I have had ample time to be thoroughly inundated and have gone under the surface a couple of times. An undertow of frustration and despair can pull one out far from the desired goal, but giving over to the whole of the process, eventually will result in a return to the desired place. Every time I am faced with a blank page to write on, or an empty surface to make marks on, the familiar panic sets in, but once embarked again on finding intention, the whole of the process kicks into place, magically. Why do I so easily forget to trust the process? G
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In answer to QM’s question about how I use writing practice in working on my book. Keep in mind that this is just my way — take what you like and leave the rest.
For me there are two parts to writing fiction: working out the story (the plot, the ‘what happens’) and working out individual scenes. I need to work out the story separately because I have a terrible sense of direction, and I need a roadmap. I will write aimlessly (or plotlessly) for volumes without going anywhere. And then once I have the story arc of a given section, I break it down into specific scenes that adhere to the classical laws of story and plot design. For these, see Aristotle and Robert McKee (author of the book ‘Story,’ which I highly recommend).
Writing practice is the field in which I wander around, mostly stumbling, often babbling and going nowhere in working out either one. Sometimes I use WP as a dialogue with myself, with one voice encouraging (or badgering) the other into solving the next tiny little piece of plot or scene. Other times, I start with an image or idea, set the timer, and say ‘go,’ just doing regular writing practice until something comes.
This is where Natalie’s rule about being “free to write the worst shit in the galaxy” comes in. I like to think I am a strong advocate for this rule. As the people in my writing group can attest, I often drone on for days or weeks about a tiny idea, holding it up to the light, trying to wrestle it to the ground, or turning it over and over between my fingers. Much of it is not good or interesting, but usually there is a germ of something. Like Pasteur, sometimes I think I am growing the growing medium, but in fact, the mold that grows on the growing medium turns out to be more valuable.
Whatever I’m doing, I just keep my pen moving, don’t cross out, etc. and just follow where my mind wanders.
I read it aloud after I’m done and circle parts I want to keep. Then I throw the rest out and start from what seems promising.
Many times, something needs to ferment in the back of the refrigerator of my mind for a long time before it becomes useful. When the container begins to inflate or throb, I take that as a signal that something is asking me to pay more attention to it. I am better about this in my mind-refrigerator than I am in our actual refrigerator.
Sometimes I do WP on a story/plot idea and follow it through. But then afterwards, I need to break it down into its component parts, writing (or pasting the printout) of each scene or unit of action onto an index card. This way I can move them around and make notes on the index cards to test my theory about whether these actions will make any sense.
Does this make any sense?
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I just laughed out loud at the obvious reaction…is there an epidural when you get to this part?
Your sense of humor is intact. That’s a good sign!
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Yes, it is a good sign. Not all is lost ; – ).
One question I had has to do with where exactly you are in your book. I know you’re in the final thrust, but what does that mean, exactly? Last one-fourth? Last one-third? Last chapter?
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p.s., R3 — I was so impressed to see you do recall. Impressed and encouraged.
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Elizabeth,
This is what I love about your post: there are a lot of us who will one day (hopefully) be bumping around the house trying to break through to the conclusion of our books. We may think something is wrong because it isn’t easy and we don’t feel like a million bucks. We’ll feel, as you’ve described, like a psychiatric patient shuffling around in socks mumbling to ourselves. But instead of throwing in the towel because we aren’t euphoric, we’ll think, “Wait a minute. This is what that Elizabeth person described in her post two years ago. I’m not alone. This edge is normal. This stage doesn’t mean I should stop. She didn’t stop.” Thank-you.
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I am 4 or 5 chapters from the end of a 20-chapter book. The number of remaining chapters depends upon how much faith one puts in my outline and how each chapter comes out.
I find that the process of discovery in the writing of each scene or chapter can be breathtaking. There have been chapters I was sure would be merely short bridges to other action. Other chapters have surprised me by extending themselves into longer pieces of action.
For the longest time, I’ve been telling people when asked that I’m halfway through the book. Then about 3 weeks ago it finally sunk in that I only have a few more chapters left to go.
Right now the total manuscript weighs in at 235 pages, not counting the pages I haven’t written yet. I just calculated based on my outline that there are another 94 pages left to write. Better get busy.
In my outline, I make an estimate of the page requirement for each chapter based on the amount of action that needs to take place. Some people might find this approach backwards, but having written on-demand pieces all my professional and student life, I find it helpful to write to a page count. It helps me to know that this needs to be an 18-page chapter or a 5-page chapter. It gives me a sense of the proportional space the chapter needs to occupy.
Also, I have found this to be a very helpful teaching in terms of writing radio and newspaper pieces. When an editor’s submission guidelines indicate a 650-word maximum or a two-minute time limit, these guidelines are not flexible. They are imposed by space restrictions (as in newspaper) or by the NPR clock (for radio). If you can’t write to the restricted format, your writing will be cut or you will not be asked back. So I have found this an excellent way to model my longer projects.
The page estimate is only a tiny notation in the margin. It is not the voice of God. If I write shorter, I write shorter. If I write longer, I write longer. But on the days when it’s really painful to drag my hand across the page, it helps to know where the finish line is — even if it’s only a provisional finish line!
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Teri,
Thanks for this feedback. This is one of the things I love about this community. It’s very validating to remember that we are all just mental patients on this escalator (a very long escalator). Short of jumping over the side, everyone will make it to the next floor. Keep an eye on what’s happening with the mental patient on the steps in front of you and you will be OK. Then after a while, remember that there are mental patients on the escalator behind you too. Share what you learn along the way and don’t let your socks get caught in the treads at the beginning or end of the process.
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I love reading about your process, Elizabeth. That you can gauge the number of pages for each chapter based on the action that needs to take place. It’s another aspect of structure that you’ve built in.
I hope you will allow us to publish more on the book to illustrate these ideas. They are helpful.
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Oh, my, I meant to reply a long time ago. When I first read this, I went immediately to your web link and then on to listen to your Perspective radio pieces.
Some people may fantacize about plastic surgery, or botox, but I am craving a “crapectomy” as you have described it. I dream about a giant dumpster parked in front of my house that I can begin to fill. It makes me happy just to think of it.
Better yet, I am hoping that these thoughts are the seeds of intention that will indeed precede action.
Thanks a lot.
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amuirin pointed me to this post — http://timsandlin.wordpress.com/2007/08/25/suicide-and-reviews-part-ii/ — which immediately reminded me of Elizabeth and her final push to finish her novel. Check it out, Elizabeth (and anyone else who would appreciate a humorous-yet-not-so-humorous look at what it’s like to be a writer and finish a book).
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