The Art of Finding Creative Inspiration

I find now when I am stymied on what to write about, make in my studio, or do with my day, I come back to these words by Mary Oliver from her poem “Sometimes”…..

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So simple, so powerful.

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Photo courtesy austinkleon.com

The Nuthatch Society

Growth is never by mere chance; it is the result of forces working together.

James Cash Penney

nuthatch-915435_1920Last year during the local Terroir Creative Writing Festival I found that there were four of us in our rural proximity that shared a love of writing and poetry. We are all novices on a path to discovery.  Why not get together now and again?

Last October we did just that.  The first meeting took place on a Sunday afternoon at Patricia’s lovely greenhouse. We sat at a table nibbling a delicious homemade coffee cake and sipping tea while a tangle of tomatoes and other vegetables seemingly were our audience. Then we rotated to Linda’s, my farmhouse and next month it is Deb’s turn.

A sort of agenda has emerged.  The person hosting leads off with something they’ve read that they would like to share and then some of their personal writing.  I am working on a memoir piece.  The last two meetings I have read parts of it.  We discuss and offer feedback on pieces if requested and then take turns.  We all adore Mary Oliver. At her recent passing, there has been much to share.

At our last meeting, we suggested all purchasing Oliver’s book “A Poetry Handbook” as a tea-time-2resource that we all have in common.  For writing challenge we have suggested finding a poem we like, using it as a “pattern” and then writing a new poem with our own words to share.  With all of our so-called assignments we put in the qualifier “or not.”  There is no pressure here, just pleasure.

Since I have a penchant for naming things, the name “The Nuthatch Society” came into my mind for our group.  The four of us live on rural property and we are quite familiar with these quirky little birds that frequent the foliage and feeders about our homes.  They are busy creatures, quite chatty, cute, but fierce and have the ability to walk upside down on trees.  The name seemed to fit with us.

There is value in online community but it cannot compare with four souls coming together to share a common interest over tea.  I’m so looking forward to the next meeting of the Nuthatch Society and sharing my writing and all the fascinating things I’ve read this month as well as what my fellow Nuthatches have been up to in their busy lives.  Community is a powerful thing- no matter how small.

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The Art of the Creative Blahs

thermometer-398735_1920It’s another hot smokey summer in Oregon.  It appears that temperatures of 90 and above and forest fires are the new normal.  Summer used to be my favorite season here but now that the jet stream has settled further south, spring and fall will get my vote.  Then air quality has been so poor you really don’t want to be outside doing much.

Motivation has been difficult.  My studio does not have air conditioning.  If I don’t get work done first thing in the morning, it doesn’t get done.  I think I’m getting summer cabin fever.  Who knew there was such a thing?

Rather than just push through it, my usual MO, maybe I should learn to roll with it and make this season the one to read, watch movies, and write more?  Maybe this is a good time to relax my expectations and go with the flow….

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Continue reading “The Art of the Creative Blahs”

Staying Tuned to The Muse

 

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“Wild Birds in My Head”  by the author

I’m always staying tuned for ideas (see my post “Where my Ideas Come From”  ) but sometimes they pursue me- relentlessly.  Think about wild birds flapping in your head endlessly or like someone tugging on your apron strings constantly.  Yes, the ruckus will go away eventually, but not entirely.  The inspiration will just go to someone else to be manifested and then pretty soon your muse will give up on you all together and you will be very lonely.

WRITE ME

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The poem tugged on my apron strings

Begging for attention

When I ignored it

It crept into the kitchen of my mind

Rattling the pots and pans with such a clatter

I could bear it no longer

“Stop!”I cried

“Don’t you know I wasn’t an English major?”

“Find someone else to write you!”

But the poem persisted with such a fuss

That I relented,

Sat down and wrote it,

Then kicked it out the door to the internet

Sighing with relief

Until I felt another tug

on my apron strings.

Poetry Readings & ADD

‘Well, write poetry, for God’s sake, it’s the only thing that matters.’

e. e. cummings

I’ve been writing poetry as a practice for over a year now.  It seemed to be a natural progression to attend poetry readings.  My first was in November and then I attended two this past weekend as part of a local poetry festival.  I haven’t been very successful thus far.

As I’ve aged, I’ve become increasingly ADD.  Sitting and listening for long stretches of time is torturous.  When I was teaching middle school, I always kept in mind those students like me, varying activities & interspersing periods of moving around in the classroom. In the adult world, most of the time there are not those opportunities.

Luckily at the end of both readings I attended this weekend, the poets were very animated, funny and irreverent, and provided material I could relate to.

Here is a glimpse into an ADD brain during a poetry reading……

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The speaker’s words begin to melt together

the chair feels increasingly uncomfortable

my lower back aches

I sit up straight, change position

Then as I close my sleepy eyes

I feel the secret portal of my brain woosh shut

allowing no more in

Come on, you can do this, I say to myself

Too late.  

Words, sentences, phrases rain down on me

shedding like water off a duck’s back

forming rivulets, then puddles at my feet, then rivers

that flow into the vast ocean of uncomprehended language

I nudge my friend in the seat to my left

I’m done, I say

She says, one more speaker then we get tamales

I sigh and wait for the tamales.

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