Tuesday, June 17, 2003
I'm back and I'm proud. I'm raving and I'm a bonafide lunatic. I read something in a great book that I skimmed that inspired me to come back to my humble blog. The book is by Brenda Ueland and it's If You Want to Write. Here's what she wrote in a letter to a friend she wanted to encourage to get back to writing, "Forgive me, but perhaps you should write again. I think there is something necessary and life-giving about 'creative work' (forgive the term). A state of excitement. And it is like a faucet: nothing comes unless you turn it on, and the more you turn it on, the more comes.
"It is our nasty twentieth century materialism that makes us feel: what is the use of writing, painting, etc. unless one has an audience or gets cash for it? Socrates and the men of the Renaissance did so much because the rewards were intrinsic, i.e., the enlargement of the soul.
"Yes we are all thoroughly materialistic about such things. 'What's the use?' we say, of doing anything unless you make money or get applause? for when a man is dead he is dead.' Socrates and the Greeks decided that a man's life should be devoted to 'the tendance (sic) of the Soul (Soul included intelligence, imagination, spirit, understanding, personality) for the soul lived eternally, in all probability.
"I think it is all right to work for money, to work to have things enjoyed by people, even very limited ones; but the mistake is to feel that the work, the effort, the search is not the important and the exciting thing. One cannot strive to write a cheap, popular story without learning more about cheapness. But enough. I may very well be getting to raving." (pp25-26)
I will take her advice and continue to rave, speaking of raving, to my imaginary readers. It certainly isn't the first time I've been accused of talking to myself. It's a healthy form of mind/finger exercise. I pay more attention to the world around me looking for shiny bits to bring back to the blog. I read the news more attentively, and with a responding voice that finds its way to print besides the articles that become linked with my comments. It's fun. I like it. I can write anything. I can post or link anything. So what if Blogcontrol gives my stats for the week as 0,0,0,0,0,0, and 0. What hurt worse, to be honest, was that one friend may have checked out the blog, and only wrote to say that the font was purposefully chosen by me to be large to make people feel like insects crawling up to my words. I don't chose the font. In fact, with minor exceptions, I don't fool with the template since some disastrous color adventures.
I still don't understand this moody old thing. I just lost about two pages of blog. Good thing I'm only writing for me. I read it anyway. I have no idea where it went or why. It was all about what I've been thinking about lately. I guess I should know that anyhow.
"It is our nasty twentieth century materialism that makes us feel: what is the use of writing, painting, etc. unless one has an audience or gets cash for it? Socrates and the men of the Renaissance did so much because the rewards were intrinsic, i.e., the enlargement of the soul.
"Yes we are all thoroughly materialistic about such things. 'What's the use?' we say, of doing anything unless you make money or get applause? for when a man is dead he is dead.' Socrates and the Greeks decided that a man's life should be devoted to 'the tendance (sic) of the Soul (Soul included intelligence, imagination, spirit, understanding, personality) for the soul lived eternally, in all probability.
"I think it is all right to work for money, to work to have things enjoyed by people, even very limited ones; but the mistake is to feel that the work, the effort, the search is not the important and the exciting thing. One cannot strive to write a cheap, popular story without learning more about cheapness. But enough. I may very well be getting to raving." (pp25-26)
I will take her advice and continue to rave, speaking of raving, to my imaginary readers. It certainly isn't the first time I've been accused of talking to myself. It's a healthy form of mind/finger exercise. I pay more attention to the world around me looking for shiny bits to bring back to the blog. I read the news more attentively, and with a responding voice that finds its way to print besides the articles that become linked with my comments. It's fun. I like it. I can write anything. I can post or link anything. So what if Blogcontrol gives my stats for the week as 0,0,0,0,0,0, and 0. What hurt worse, to be honest, was that one friend may have checked out the blog, and only wrote to say that the font was purposefully chosen by me to be large to make people feel like insects crawling up to my words. I don't chose the font. In fact, with minor exceptions, I don't fool with the template since some disastrous color adventures.
I still don't understand this moody old thing. I just lost about two pages of blog. Good thing I'm only writing for me. I read it anyway. I have no idea where it went or why. It was all about what I've been thinking about lately. I guess I should know that anyhow.
Comments:
Post a Comment
