The first principle of writing is be in a peaceful state of mind. This seems counter-intuitive, since a good deal of good writing occurs in the heat of the moment, impassioned, as it were, by the exigencies of that immediate experience. The trick is, it seems to me, to hold onto that passion until one is prepared to write clearly and succinctly about whatever it is that is moving one to write.
I have an example here at hand; for yesterday afternoon I had a surprising emotional moment, the sudden passion of which might have easily roused me to write about it, except that I knew, in the heat of that remembrance, I would've probably failed miserably to relate that which I really wanted to say about it, and instead have devolved onto merely describing it, with no insight or reflection. The mechanics of the situation are this, and such that I expect many people will be able to relate to: I was listening to a song on a CD which I hadn't listened to for some time, and, suddenly, a song that was very closely identified to the end of my marriage came on. In a sudden rush, all my thoughts and feelings from that time came over me, like a flood, and as I was sitting my living room chair with my roommate next to me, watching a movie as I sat with the laptop and headphones, I decided to move to the deck to finish listening to the song.
It's not revealing too much to say that the song was "If I Ever Lose My Faith In You" from Sting's "Ten Summoner's Tales" album. In keeping with first principles, I can say that there are two parts to the significance of this song to me: the first, a temporal consideration, in that I had really gotten into this album around the first summer of my marriage, and, at the time I imprinted the devastating associations that follow it now, I was on vacation and had the house to myself, so I could totally crank up the stereo I had been building since my return from Detroit and had actually gotten married to the gal I'd pursued off and on for over 11 years. I was finally living in a mostly-happy home with someone I'd given my love to more than once, only to suffer from unfortunate break-ups.
The second aspect is a lot trickier to pin down, because of course, if you listen to the lyrics, there is a central theme of "if I lose my faith in you, there'd be nothing left for me to lose". This concept is quintessentially important here, because it's one of the things my wife said to me after we got back together after a 5 year break-"I can't believe you came back to me after all that." And I told her, "you should never lose your faith in me-if you'll just let me be there, I will be there for you." We had about four good years; then, her old problems, having never been resolved despite my support for that, resurged. After an evening of inexplicable, horrible recrimination that mostly had to do with things in her head and not on-the-ground reality, she demanded a divorce and I told her "I won't fight you to stay married to me." And so, eventually, we moved apart and I petitioned the state for, and recieved, a divorce.
And as I stood on the deck last night, listening to a song that at one time had expressed everything I felt about my happiness in finally having the woman and home that I'd always longed for, I started crying. Crying for that guy back then, so happy and thinking he'd found his place, crying for me now, much older, lonely, sure that all that aspect of my life is pretty much over forever, reminded of all the former loves who are all gone forever too, knowing full well that I just don't have it in me anymore to dive into that great pool of emotion and utter commitment, unbelieving that all my best was never enough, ever, anywhere, anytime.
I cried when I wrote this song; sue me if I play too long. Call me Deacon Blues.
And what does all of this have to do with First Principles in Writing, you ask?
Write what you know, and never fear to tell the whole, personal truth. No writing is better than that which unflinchingly reveals the writer's very soul.
For that, one must have great peace of mind.
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That was a very emotional moment to share with us Quantum. It takes some courage to post a blog about something so personal to you.
ReplyDeleteFor me, music is one of the two ways to immediately take me back to a time and place (smell is another, but there are fewer distinctive smells than there are songs). Most times the songs simply bring me back to whatever time and place that the song was a main part in my life, with the resulting feelings. But after a very serious breakup, when I hear songs from that time, it's viscerally painful. Not that these were "our" songs -- I doubt he had ever heard them. It's just the music of that time. Also, happy goopy songs made me angry and were painful, and bitter songs were too close to home.
ReplyDeleteFor a long time, one of the worst side effects of that breakup was that pop music was killed for me. My ability to listen to collateral songs (mushy love songs, bitter songs) has come back, but there's still some key music of that time I kind of shy away from. And that sucks.
Wow - that took some guts to write and publish. And I thank you for doing it.
ReplyDeleteCertain songs bring back certain memories for me in the strangest ways. I can hear an old song sitting at the computer or overtop a TV show, but I hear the same song while driving and it will take me back to a place so strong it'll take my breath away. Or I'll hear songs that remind me of such happy chilhood times that it makes me incredibly sad, knowing those days are forever gone.
(and your Deacon Blues reference takes me back to a summer where that album was about all I listened to - on 8-track!)
I guess I'm different. Music rarely takes me back to old memories. About the only thing that does are pictures and landmarks. I look at a picture taken when I was 20 and I remember everything about it. Who took it, when, and what we were doing. It's the same when I visit an old home I used to own. I'll see a bush in the yard and memories come blasting back on planting it, what happened that day, and how I felt.
ReplyDeleteThose feelings are rather sad. You know you can't go back and get them again and in many ways you're not the same person either. It's all lost including yourself.
I don't like to dwell in the past so I rarely allow much of that sort of thing.
Thanks, everyone, for the insightful comments. I think it was an appropriate example for what I was talking about-writing fearlessly from your heart, but maybe wait a bit, so you write with some capacity for reflection. Too, it's best to right what you know.
ReplyDeleteTo me, it's amazing how different senses get tied into association, and how different folks get triggered by different things in different ways. I'm all-over-the-map, but music is a very strong one for me-probably because I am a musician and have always identified my life with songs I love.