Getting inspired to Write for 5

It’s not too long until Saturday when I’ll be posting an image here on my blog with the hopes that some writer friends, or anyone who wants to give it a go, will participate in a timed writing exercise. I wrote about the idea on my last post, Using Imagery as Muse.

In preparation for that, I thought I’d remind you of what most of you already know, and that is, there’s nothing like reading some inspired writing, right before you know you have to write something to get yourself into the right frame of mind. That’s a lot of rights to live up to!

Maybe because of the free flowing nature of poetry, (at least until you try to write it and then you realize there’s actually nothing all that free flowing about it except maybe the first draft), I find poetry often inspires me to get into a creative mindset for writing on demand.

The other thing you also know is that the editor in your head, that dastardly perfectionist, must be slain or at least sent off on a long errand for a product that hasn’t been invented yet. Adopt a “This is not a test, this is an Experiment attitude.” It’s a jumping off point to investigate how the brain can rise to the challenge.

As an aside, I was reading the NYTimes on my phone last week (in bed), as I often do (sad but true) because that’s not what anyone should be doing in bed, and they posted the original short story of BrokeBack Mountain written by Annie Proulx.

I re-read it and couldn’t put my phone down and if you want to read something that is really amazing, you should read that story that the Oscar-winning movie was based on. It’s amazing how she uses language.

Unfortunately, that story come block-buster movie ended up causing Proulx unending irritation because people just didn’t get it. Here’s what she told the NY Times…“And one of the reasons we keep the gates locked here is that a lot of men have decided that the story should have had a happy ending. They can’t bear the way it ends — they just can’t stand it. So they rewrite the story, including all kinds of boyfriends and new lovers and so forth after Jack is killed. And it just drives me wild. They can’t understand that the story isn’t about Jack and Ennis. It’s about homophobia; it’s about a social situation; it’s about a place and a particular mindset and morality. They just don’t get it.”

And you thought that getting published would solve all your problems. Guess not.

My absolute favourite poem (getting back to being inspired) and I have to say that loving this poem hasn’t really changed since the first time I read it, although there are so many poets to choose from it’s kind of crazy to say that a poem can remain a lifelong favourite, is a very old poem by Margaret Atwood that was in her very first book of poetry, The Circle Game.

Here it is. Hopefully this inspires you in preparation for Saturday. And, I should say, there’s nothing that says you can’t write a poem in response to the image. The slate is blank. Colour it!

Against Still Life by Margaret Atwood
Orange in the middle of a table:
It isn’t enough to walk around it
At a distance, saying
It’s an orange:
nothing to do
with us, nothing
else: leave it alone

I want to pick it up
In my hand
I want to peel the
skin off; I want
more to be said to me
than just Orange:
want to be told
everything it has to say

And you, sitting across
the table, at a distance, with
your smile-contained, and like the orange
In the sun: silent:

Your silence isn’t enough for me
now, no matter with what
contentment you fold
your hands together; I want
anything you can say
in the sunlight:
stories of your various
childhooods, aimless journeyings,
your loves, your articulate
skeleton; your posturings; your lies

These orange silences
(sunlight and hidden smile)
make me want to
wrench you into saying:
now I’d crack your skull
like a walnut, split it like a pumpkin
to make you talk, or get
a look inside

But quietly
If I take the orange
With care enough and hold it
gently

I may find
an egg
a sun
an orange moon
perhaps a skull; center
of all energy
resting in my hand

can change it to
whatever I desire
It to be
And you, man, orange afternoon
lover, wherever
you sit across from me
(tables, trains, buses)

If I watch
quietly enough
and long enough

at last, you will say
(maybe without speaking)

(there are mountains
Inside your skull
garden and chaos, ocean
and hurricane; certain
corners of rooms, portraits
of great-grandmothers, curtains
of a particular shade;
your deserts; your private
dinosaurs; the first
woman)

all I need to know:
tell me
everything
Just as it was
from the beginning.

If you have any piece of writing you get inspired by prior to writing, feel free to share it in the comments.