In both Anne of Avonlea and Little Women there are similar scenes I find beautiful: the poignant moments Anne and Jo decide to write about what they love. Sitting at a candle-lit desk, the sounds of the house stilled in sleep, Jo gets out a clean sheet of paper and simply begins. The pages stack up over time and are finally tied together with ribbon (yes, the ultimate romantic touch) and sent away.
The message is clear: write what you love, let it go, and leave everything else to off-stage resolution.
My most recent response to questions about my dissertation has been to cite total number of pages written: 55. The page-count mantra is more me telling myself, “Look! You’re almost a third of the way through!”
Since I’m handwriting this 1st draft, the slow accumulation of a stack of pages also connects me to my writing heroines. I wonder if my adviser would appreciate me sending her a tied, handwritten draft.
Oh, right. For a moment I forgot it’s the 21st century.
But still, still, even with some sprinkles of writing romance, I’ve wrestled with a (perceived) loss of words (and loss of interest in them), words that came so easily 10 years ago, words and joy that went missing after exams and the often barren environment of doctoral education. Words I betrayed by turning a harsh and condemning gaze upon them, judging them not good enough.
TS Elliott says that words crack under the weight of meaning. What about the weight of expectations?
The words come from my heart, and my heart went quiet in the face of so much self-criticism.
But, I’ve been reminded quite clearly today, my words are not so dammed as I’ve believed. (Ah, the revealing nature of word choice.)
My dear friend Doug said something to me last week that I took to heart: Don’t focus on your weaknesses, don’t try to change them. Focus on your strengths.
I got out my journals–the writing project I do without even thinking about it as writing–and, factoring in page size and a conservative estimate of handwritten words per page, I’ve written over 130 pages since January.
Love, frustration, wrestling, friendship, joy, sadness. The story of a life.
Easily 3000 pages since I began in 1986.
I’ve spent so much time focused on scarcity, I missed the abundance.
The words are still there. They never left.
What changed was only my perception of them.
What abundance longs to be noticed in your life? What gift do you ignore because it is like breathing? What strength is inviting you to give it some loving attention?