Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Pen&Ink... revived

It all started quite innocently with me peeling potatoes onto newsprint from the recycling cupboard. I had been thinking about my writing for a while by then and wondering how to get over eight years of writers' block. 
My biggest problem being that I am not Margaret Atwood. 
Cannot write like Margaret Atwood. 
And am never going to be her, or write Handmaid's Tale. 
So why write?
Glancing down my eye was caught by a piece of at least 800 words about some arb man's experience with a shoddy handyman and his two garden gates. I kid you not. And they actually pay people to write this stuff?  And publish it in a newspaper?
I took this as a sign. If this boring old fart writer could earn an income - then I should at least keep writing.
I may never live up to my expectations. But I love to write. And so I will.
But not about my gates.

1 comment:

Fioleta said...

Recently I was reading Gene Wolfe’s The Fifth Head of Cerberus, which is a collection of three related novellas, and while reading the second one I was struck by how different its voice was from the first one. I had one of those epiphany moments – each story, even though it is a variation on one of the traditional themes (for example Romeo & Juliet), has its own unique voice and to be told well it needs to find the right person to bring it into our world. So Margaret Atwood was the perfect writer for “The Handmade’s Tale”, but there are plenty of stories, for which she would be the worst one. I’m sure there is a story (or stories) that are waiting to be told by you! (And if you think about it even M. Atwood never again will write “The Handmade’s Tale”)

And since I don’t seem to be able to avoid having a quote for every occasion:
"Finding yourself in a hole, at the bottom of a hole, in almost total solitude, and discovering that only writing can save you. To be without the slightest subject for a book, the slightest idea for a book, is to find yourself, once again, before a book. A vast emptiness. A possible book. Before nothing. Before something like living, naked writing, like something terrible, terrible to overcome."
Marguerite Duras (Writing)