Tag Archives: creativity

From the Depths of December

I wander downtown to buy Christmas cards, in the hope that it will assuage my guilt at not yet having begun shopping for presents. There is no escaping the swift approach of Yuletide on this brisk December day.

Fairy lights wind their way up tree trunks, like magic ivy. A middle-aged couple carries plastic bags and an air of exasperation. A Norway Spruce leans up against a wall, naked but on the brink of fulfilling its life purpose.

I pop in my iPod buds and drown out the world with the sounds of Video Games and VillagersA teenager rushes out of a pound shop, her face full of freckles and anticipation. I enter. A mother slaps her children’s hands away from sweets and toys. A man in dirty work clothes holds a basket brimming with tinsel.

I buy two packets of sparkly Santa cards and continue down the main street. A young boy bolts into the library. I follow. As I enquire after a Heather O’Neill novel, which is currently MIA, an elderly woman breezes up to the desk.

“It’s getting cold out there, Mrs O’Brien,” the male librarian tries.

“We’re all ageing,” the woman retorts.

He changes the subject.

“What do you think of the Budget?”

The woman doesn’t respond.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE BUDGET?” the librarian bellows. Children look up in disbelief.

“I heard you the first time,” the old lady announces. “I just don’t bother with all that shite!”

I leave without a book, but not without a story.

I take a detour home along the Liffey. The river is full and fast. The moon clings to the cobwebs of the morning sky. Drizzle settles on nettles. A reluctant dog is pulled toward the nonchalant swans. Ducks fly close to the water, their necks straining forwards.

Reeds clump together and float to the surface, like dead bodies. A leafless tree bends over the water, like a nude diver frozen in time. A woman jogs by, barely lifting her legs. A man in a track suit practises Tai Chi in the wet grass. I wonder if he’s crazy and try not to stare.

As I huddle on a park bench, ignoring the cold and blowing on a Biro, I decide that I am a writer and that there is nothing I’d rather be.

“It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?” Vita Sackville-West

And for all you budding writers out there, click here.

Images: http://gallery.hd.org/_c/art/_more2004/_more12/baubles-glass-and-wire-shiny-tinsel-blue-and-silver-star-for-top-of-tree-decorations-ornaments-JR.jpg.html; http://weheartit.com/entry/18871955;

http://laetificus.tumblr.com/page/8; http://weheartit.com/entry/9454974

Who knew a blocked nose would make me so prolific?

So, you may have noticed that I’ve been writing a lot lately. And it’s all down to an irritatingly lengthy episode of El Influenza. I’m like a crazy old lady, rocking back and forth in her asylum armchair, dropping tatty hankies and incoherent references to Don Juan and the surrealist movement. Bless, her mind is still active, though edging ever closer to the perilous terrain of dementia…

Tomasz Setowski

Frustrating, when I can barely muster up the energy to prop myself against a quartet of pillows and engage in the most minimal of finger movements. Thank the Andy-Osborne for laptops! Luckily, there’s more coming out of me than snot and sneezes (poetic, right?) I think, therefore I write.

I haven’t left the house in days but I see inspiration everywhere (The delirium’s set in. Hard.) A mere sentence on a page could set me off. A movie character. The theme tune of a crappy television programme. Something someone says/does/wears. Gazing out at the sky, the weather, the strangers silently moving behind their windows… Lying in bed, dwelling upon memories and imaginations, unable to sleep because I’m too bunged-up and yucky-boned (Of course it’s a valid medical description – try not to upset her.)

I will not complain… but do you know how annoying it is to switch on your light at 3 am to jot down a few lines just so you can get them out of your head, only to have to turn it on again a few minutes later because you had a flash of something else “brilliant”, then to plunge yourself into darkness, begging your mind to stop? For the love of the Land of Nod, please stop! And finally, to surrender to writing the damn thing already, cursing and celebrating, in equal measure, what can only be described as creative insanity.

She lies back, relieved and light-headed after her latest purge.                             Nurse! Get that poor dear a sedative!

Images; http://www.cn-printing.com/6-tips-for-your-writing-journal.html; http://accessdenied-livingwithms.blogspot.com/2011/01/wiped-out-today.html; http://favim.com/image/4371/; http://favim.com/image/6915/

Being a writer (and being the only one who knows it)

Before I was even able to write, I was writing. I wrote page upon page of squiggles that resembled the jagged patterns on a heart monitor. Not long after that, I was reading the likes of Pinocchio and The Little Red Hen. And I hadn’t even started school yet.

I am eternally grateful for my literacy. It’s one of the greatest skills I’ve ever been taught. That and swimming.

In primary school, I proudly gave an illustrated short story about princesses and witches to my first class teacher. She returned it, without comment but with red marks highlighting all my spelling mistakes. That didn’t stop me. I found the poems I’d given my third class teacher stuffed into the back of a cupboard. I was surprised and hurt but I wrote on. I made booklets and cassettes of my poetry for my kind, enthusiastic grandparents. And finally, in fourth class, my teacher Mrs Molloy praised my writing and urged me to continue.

I went on to win numerous writing competitions in secondary school. I was published several times in the Leinster Leader. I enjoyed writing essays for English class. Even in exam settings, I was able to lose myself in my writing. I thrived on learning palatable new words and using them in my prose. An examiner once docked me marks for describing the ocean as “cerulean”. She said it wasn’t a real word. Check the dictionary, woman!

Poetry and free flow writing helped me in my darkest moments. Even though life was scary and hopeless, I had the ability to create something beautiful and inspiring.

However, there came a time when the confidence in every area of my life was completely obliterated and I stopped writing. When people asked why, I told them that I simply wasn’t inspired any more, or that I was too busy.

Thankfully, I’ve worked hard on myself and rebuilt my confidence. But I worried that I wouldn’t have the necessary angst to be able to write, now that I was happier and my life was more stable. My best work had always come in my most desolate moments.

But I hadn’t reckoned on the power of living in the present moment to boost my creativity. My motivation and positivity increased. My sense of humour was heightened. Because I resided less in my head, I became more aware, observant, and alive. This translates wonderfully in a person’s writing.

I went on to study Journalism, where I had my own column in the college magazine. I wrote articles for our class newspaper. I had travel features published in magazines like U and Backpacker. I enjoy writing snappy reviews on Yelp, which has helped rekindle my creative spark. And now, I’m thoroughly enjoying creating this blog.

I get a kick out of depicting objects, situations and emotions using language. I adore playing with words and inventing never-before-used descriptions. I love the smell of books and the ambience of a bookshop. And getting sucked in by the first page of a novel is like what I imagine taking crack cocaine must feel like. For me, great literature isn’t just the classics and the novels that win the Man Booker Prize. It can be a witty newspaper column, a vibrant travel feature, a heart-rending or hilarious blog post, a compelling thriller.

Today, I treated myself to a Jodi Picoult novel. I admire the extremely detailed research Jodi does for each of her books, the controversial subjects she deals with, and how she delves right into every nook and cranny of her characters’ minds. As I nibbled on a blueberry muffin, I began to read. I actually had to have a moment of silence for the way she described the sound of a newspaper being perused, “It made a nice noise, like the rustle of leaves…”

I am a writer. I don’t have a multi-million euro book deal just yet. I haven’t even written a novel, let alone had one published. And I don’t get paid for the online writing I’m doing. Sometimes, I get asked why I don’t turn my writing into a real job. The truth is, there’s nothing I’d love more than to write for a living. But I don’t want to be a reporter. Being awoken at four am to report on a devastating crime or accident, travelling to war-torn countries, and doorstepping the loved ones of the recently deceased does not appeal to me. I’m just not cut out for such a stressful lifestyle. Living on constant adrenaline is something I’m finally putting behind me and I’d rather not welcome it back into my life. There’s no doubting that these brave, determined reporters are writers too. But, as snobby as it sounds, I want to be a writer writer.

Here’s how to be a writer:

1) Do it with love

Write from the heart and readers will fall in love with what you’ve written. Don’t write what you think others want to read. Write what you know. This will make it authentic and utterly readable. And don’t just do it to become rich or famous. Write because you love it. Then, if you’re one of the lucky ones to make a career out of it, it will never be a chore. I don’t know who’s reading this blog and I’m certainly not getting paid to write it but I love doing it nonetheless. Having said that, if anyone wants to turn it into a book, I’m all ears!

2) Write, write, write

Writer’s block is a common phenomenon but don’t let it get the better of you. Don’t know what to write? Write anything! Anything at all. Jot down (or type) the first thing that comes into your head and get into a flow. The beauty of the computer is that you can return to your writing and, with the simple click of a mouse, you can edit as you see fit.

3) You don’t have to do it alone

Become part of a creative writing group. Before I went back to college, I  joined a wonderful group in Newbridge called Scribblers. I quickly got into a routine of writing weekly pieces, and the encouragement and support from the other members helped me start believing in my talent. Alternatively, you could enrol in a scriptwriting or copywriting class. There are also college courses you can do, which are excellent for pushing authors to complete a piece of work and to get published.

4) Create a blog

It’s free and extremely easy to set up. And it’s less daunting than writing a book as you can start off with short instalments. The instant feedback in the form of comments is encouraging and allows you to interact with your readers. You can also keep tabs on how many views your blog is getting and which of your posts are most popular.

5) Share

Show your writing to trustworthy family members and friends. They can offer you support, encouragement and constructive criticism. Share your blog posts on Facebook and Twitter to expand your readership.

6) Freelance

Anyone can submit articles to newspapers and magazines. Not everyone gets published, of course, but at least you’ll be putting yourself out there and making a name for yourself in the media world. Some publications will even pay you for your contributions.

7) Enter competitions

Keep an eye out for any competitions you can enter. Radio shows regularly host writing competitions. I once entered a competition and had my piece read out on the Marian Finucane show, published in a book, and a couple of hundred euro were thrown my way as a result! Winning (or even getting shortlisted) will give you some recognition and a hell of an ego boost.

8. Silence the inner critic

If your internal (and extremely negative) voice has anything to do with it, you’ll never do anything constructive. Tell the part of you that’s doubting how good you are to shut the hell up and just do it!

9) Read aloud

Before publishing your blog, submitting an article, or entering a competition, read your work aloud. This allows you to see how it would look to a potential reader. If it has you laughing, crying and giving yourself a moment of silence, you’ve probably done a good job. You can then correct your mistakes and edit a bit more before you allow others to enjoy your masterpiece.

10) Live

The more life experiences you have under your belt, the more you’ll have to write about. So, for the sake of good literature, get out there and get a life. No asking me twice!

11) Believe

Believe in your talent and never give up. You may have noticed that a lot of famous authors recount harsh tales of years and years of rejection before finally being discovered. I once heard a rumour that someone removed Charles Dickens’ name from one of his manuscripts, sent it into a publishing company, and it was turned down! So, as the old saying (or was it an Aaliyah song?) goes, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

Writing is art too. Inspiration can come from the simplest of sources. Van Gogh created a masterpiece by painting a kitchen chair!

Images: http://weheartit.com/entry/12410178; http://favim.com/image/194059/; http://likeariot.tumblr.com/; http://holunder.deviantart.com/art/listen-feel-and-imagine-182338777?q=gallery:Holunder/6445147