This morning it’s raining, i’ve a routine appointment which I’m not looking forward to and words are slow to come. It’s not ‘writers’ block’, it’s this writer’s reluctance to write. The usual suspects line up. Why do I bother? I can list the success of other writers and note how I fall short. I admire the perseverance of other creatives who are not yet recognised and my doubts ought to pale into significance. They don’t.
Reeds by Midland Oak, Leamington
Last week I started a new scene in my novel and I felt tired. There was research I needed to do; I wasn’t as close to the character as I wanted to be because he was way outside my experience. I had taken a step in the right direction, but progress was slow. What to do?
I picked up a poetry book from my windowsill where I stack writings that inspire me. I read the introduction to one poem. Pádraig ÓTuama wrote, ‘I … assume that everything is my fault.’ He explained that he’d had a difficult childhood and he had developed the tendency to think that everything was his fault. Fortunately I didn’t have the kind of childhood ÓTuama described. Like many others, writers or not, I have a tendency to think that because my writing life isn’t working out as I imagine it should, it must be my fault. Sometimes it is, sometimes not.
The poem he provides and analyses is: How the Dung Beetle Finds Its Way Home. It lifted my spirits simply to read the title. I have discovered that a line in a poem or a piece of prose grabs my attention. It’s not necessarily what the piece is about, (although in this case it is). And how about, ‘… even beetles need the stars/ to nudge them back to where they need to be,’
And the final line, ‘…I rolled up my pile of shit/and trudged back home.’
Dung beetle – see Attribution below
If you get a chance listen to Pádraig ÓTuama reading the poem. I didn’t do that, but read it aloud to myself which was enough to persuade me I needed a break and a cup of tea, before settling back to writing a bit more. Sometimes writing flows, sometimes it doesn’t. Listening to music, talking to a friend or going for a walk can move me on. When I’m writing a difficult scene in my novel, I need to stay with it or I lose the ‘feel’ of the piece.
Just knowing that the, perhaps despised, dung beetle faces a similar problem keeps me going. What, I wonder, keeps you going? Comments welcome.
Photo of tulips taken by my sister, Jan
Reading: The Manningtree Witches – A.K. Blakemore a great read. Another recommendation by Helen Cross for her novel writing course in January. It struck me that some of the ignorant attitudes towards women remain in 21st century. How the Dung Beetle Finds its Way Home can be read on the internet, or 44 Poems on Being with Each Other, edited by Pádraig ÓTuama. To find out more about Pádraig ÓTuama his link is: https://www.padraigotuama.com .
Photos: The photo of the Dung Beetle was taken by Axel Strauß on 21st February 2008 and can be found in an article about Dung Beetles on Wikepedia. It is licensed under Creative Commons. There are descriptions about the dung beetles in the UK on the internet. That’s a thing about reading, I get curious about stuff I knew nothing about.
Recent Comments