This is the second part of a two-part series called “Writing as a Tool of Awareness”
Writing “inventory” was like taking a small dose of magic mushrooms at times. There were times when the result was more like something obtained from a larger dose. I knew traumatic events could shift my perspective on things. I knew beating my head against the proverbial wall with the same dumb actions could make me more willing to try a different approach at life. I didn’t know that I could drastically change my viewpoint on things in short order with only a pen and paper. (more…)
This is the first of a two-part series called “Writing as a Tool of Awareness”
I had to write it in the third person at first. I couldn’t even admit that I was writing non-fiction, and I had changed my name to “Cory” in the book. (more…)
It’s been said that there’s a thin line between genius and insanity. I think there is also a thin line between true awareness and psychotic delusion. I’ve also heard that the mystic swims in what the psychotic drowns in. I’m not sure which one Craig is. Probably a little of both. (more…)
The fact is, many of us have been bad parents to our writing. We can be like helicopter parents. We monitor its movements to a tee. We don’t let it out into the world without fussing over every little detail of its appearance.
“How would this reflect on us?” we ask.
We show up to write, putting in the required time and effort. Making necessary sacrifices. Only just to lock our art up where it’s safe. Exposing it to the small world we feel comfortable with. We lock our art up underneath our better-knowing and protective noses like it was Norman Bates.
“The world wouldn’t understand you like I do. The world is vulgar and uncaring.”
Can we blame ourselves for doing the best that we can? Our intentions were good. We never meant to give our art a stifling environment. We didn’t know any better.
The good news is that we grow up in a huge life that is conspiring to help us at every turn.
How do we let our writing grow into what it is meant to grow into?
We let it out of the Bates Motel. (more…)
Inspiration struck me at a few months sober. I was going to write a book. It seemed that I now had a calling. The jagged journey, and not one as neat as I had planned. A journey, still in its infancy, that has taught me already.
“I am going to work for this.” became the creed.
I put the work in. I can become isolationist and rigid with my writing routing. THE Routine. It can drink all the joy out of a day. I confess to this shortcoming in my Destructive Force that Brings Artists Down post. It has brought unnecessary hardship to my relationships at times.
I believe there is time for sacrifice, even to outright neglect other areas of my life at times. The journey needs to be jagged. This is just what I believe.
But to solely march militaristic would deny one crucial, vital element of what a calling is… (more…)