Relative Acts to Writing
I find myself searching for words this morning. Unable to quite define what I'm feeling after such an overflow of literary thought last weekend. I dived into this week in a different rhythm. There is so much to do and I'm still trying to learn how to be graceful about everything.
Delayed schedules on newsletter printing. Delayed artwork for laid out pages. Last minute changes on photos and editing. I'm missing a half-beat. I'm losing the rhythm. But I suppose this is how it really is. Printing publication materials isn't an easy. Creating content to describe life at work in a busy organization is complicated. But for someone who wants to see life chronicled in pages and words it shouldn't be a problem.
I'm realizing that a writer's world is more than just scratching words on paper or reading carefully crafted prose from another's thoughts. It's more than the act of writing itself. It's everything that involves producing written work. It's the paper that the words are printed on. It's the mill that produces the paper. It's the tree that has been chopped in some unknown forest that has been uprooted to produce the paper. It's the new seedling that's been planted to replace the tree. It's the ink that flows and prints the words on paper. It's the cylinder that is used on a printing machine to transfer the ink. It's the printing technician that operates the printer. It's the layout artist who transfered the content on digital form that is used as a file to print the work. It's the concept thought by the artist. It's the message thought by the writer.
If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world. [Ray Bradbury]