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November 10, 2005

A Tenebrous Tangle

I feel very happy...very relieved. Was struggling last night with a major plot turn. Was having "problems" with a few areas. I worked hard all day, and collapsed at about 19:00, onto the couch. As I lay there, I turned things over in my mind. I need something bigger there...that is not quite enough to motivate his response...and we need to see the taint spreading earlier...and what is wrong with Mr. Zee....

Writing. For me, it's such a zen thing, as I've said before. And it's not just writing. It's starting and completing any highly creative endeavor that spans days, pages, tracks, or jars of paint. There is an unfolding, a reforming, a process of inventing, of making. And in this process, you adjust and navigate. Your story—or painting, or song—is like a big insect, trying to unfold itself from pupae; stretching legs and wings under a membraneous film. You help it along, even with your tiny hands. Some parts you pull at, some you bang loose with a stick. Some you simply have to protect, like a cluster of eggs; some you don't even stir. Some parts of your mind/imagination/process need nothing from your active self, only to be looked in on now and then. You may open the door to waft some fresh air over the incubation, but you do not dig down in the mud. You have to know when to shake your muse awake, and when to just make hand signals from across the room. It is always an intense process for me. Effort and growth giving way to anxiety giving way to more struggle giving way to self-reassurance giving way to sudden joy giving way to movement giving way to thought giving way to anxiety.... Always in the end, I look back at what I've made and am filled with gratitude and wonder. Always, in the middle, I squirm and doubt and wonder how I've pulled it off in the past.

This morning was another victory over doubt, as there always is. I am used to the process, even with my moments of anxiety. There is a detached part of my awareness that sort of rides along, looking over, comforting. You know what will happen next. Don't worry. Worry poisons the process. It will all connect, and settle. Just move forward, at whatever rate you can. Trust in the process. You will make it work, you always do. And I do. Yet, that wisdom that comforts me is the closest I can get to ridding myself of the anxiety when I get stuck. I cannot, as of yet, part with it entirely.

Anyway, I'm being dramatic, but hey. Occupational hazard. Really, all this turmoil manifested this time with me tossing and turning a bit before I fell asleep last night. And of course, when I awoke, the problem was right there. Like a lotus flower floating on top of the still waters of a pond, there was the same challenge. But it wasn't long after waking that the answer fell into place—like a happy frog hopping across the previously-unsullied surface.

Nothing like that feeling. That one idea that makes it all work again.

And with that momentum and relief in my mind, I continue. I hope you enjoyed today's brief carnival o' metaphor.

JRH

joaquín ramón herrera writes for children, adults, and other humans found elsewhere in the continuum of development. He is also an illustrator, musician, and surprise protagonist. If you have found his glasses, wallet, or keys, please contact him here.

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