Not all broken commitments hurt. Some we hope won’t work. Some commitments we initially hope don’t work out, and then when they don’t, we realize we do want it to work out. Then there’s some that work out and you wished they didn’t. The ones that workout just the way you planned, are priceless.
This is literally what a thought looks inside the brain. But when we think, this is not what we see. Today I’d like to discuss how we get our thoughts from conception into a place where we can mold them into a story.
Getting ideas from pure thought onto paper can be a complicated thing.
But there’s a trick.
The trick is….
to just start writing. And that’s it. You’re swell-come.
No, but seriously, that’s the trick, to start writing. Write the story without limits. When I start my story, I also use journals, maps, lists, brain storming, charts, Pinterest, worksheets, whatever I need to pull all the pieces together.
I think of this process in the same way Michelangelo thought of David. In the beginning, it’s a slab of rock or a mass of words and as a writer at some point, it will be my duty to carve away at my story until I set it free. The setting free of the story happens later. So right now we are building our slab of marble to have something to carve from.
While getting these thoughts on paper it’s ok to struggle. The process of getting my story onto paper is a lot of walking in the dark chaotic recesses of my mind. It sounds complex because it is a complex thing to do. So when I struggle, which I do, it’s important to accept that as part of this extraction process.
“A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”
Trust your own thoughts and ideas and give them credit when they show up. At this point the only important thing is extracting ideas from the inside of your mind. Stay open to your own ideas and give every single one credit. You can weed through it all later. Focus on making this a positive experience so you can get it all out. All your ideas and thoughts are worthy of acceptance.
And that’s it. Start writing the story. Write everything down without limits. It’s OK to struggle, and remember all ideas and thoughts are worthy of acceptance.
Start and finish a short story within an hour. I find that I’m more forced to deal with the ideas I have when I set a time restraint. While writing your story, journal or use at least one other resource to assist in welcoming all your ideas.
Accept the story as it comes.
When you’re finished, sculpt and mold it into a short story. Then you’ll have one more piece to add to your collection
I also spoke about Why understanding the Creative Process is important and What the creative process is Click the links if you want to learn more about the creative process
Links to sites that added to the creation of this post
https://backtoroots.community/clinical-corner-articles/2017/2/8/sensitisation-primary-adaptive-vs-secondary-maladaptive -for the picture
https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/creative-process -for the quote
I can’t find where I learned this about Michelangelo so if someone knows please send me link.
There is a reason why you’re here
It’s to read this poem and to realize this poem’s existence would cease without you
It would be silent
A dead silence with the night air stuck in a place that never really existed
It would lack the chaos of us
Trees would fall into oblivion
I would fall into oblivion.
there’d be no us
there’d be no poetry
You are the poetry
Sitting here outside the gym eating Milanos. I might finish the bag before I finish this piece. It’s the double dark chocolate flavor. There’s a lesson to be learned here. But I’m sure I already know it. The class starts in ten. There’s two cookies left and I should stop eating them but I probably won’t. I should take this all more seriously I mean my health is a priority as a mother. Ok I’ll leave the last two for tomorrow.
A hungry breastfeeding mother
Still working on the list. But this is what I have so far. I’m proud to be from New England and live where so many great writers have lived. Thought I’d make page to show off my home.
Meeting Artist Chad Cocilo was an honor. When writing this I was more focused on who Chad was as an individual and who he was as an artist. But I have added a link to The New London Patch which goes more in depth on his art style and technique.
“I pay no attention whatever to anybody’s praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings.”
― Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
“Fuck em all.”
We were on our way to meet Chad Cocilo but right beforehand, he asked us if we wanted to come to his studio. I was totally siked. When I think “studio” I think of Jackson Pollock, alcohol, cigarettes, and wet canvases with paint brushes balanced on them. My co-pilot, on the other hand, thought in the opposite direction and felt it wasn’t a good idea. So, I said, in my oh-so-convincing voice, “We’ll just drive by the club [his studio resided over and check out the scene.”
We parked across the street and while Melissa smoked, we assessed it together mentally. I felt her tension ease, which I’m sure was only because she forced it to, knowing how excited I was. It didn’t take much assessing to know the area was questionable. I text him to let him know we were there and he met us outside. We walked up to the building arms brushing against each other. We got to the door and I noticed he has those ocean eyes. He was standing there tall and brave, eyes kind of sad looking. Cigarette in hand, while he was waiting for us in jeans and a button down. I would have never guessed him to be an artist. Then again what exactly should an artist look like?
He held the door open and allowed me to lead the way up a dark and narrow stair case. As I began to walk up the stairs I couldn’t even see a door at the top. I put my hand against the wall to guide my way. The building was old but the stairs were sturdy. We got to a door with no lock. I was afraid to open it because this wasn’t my door to open. I admitted out loud that I was scared and stepped aside. Melissa stepped aside as well, saying with her eyes, “O no, it’s not gunna be me.”
He strolled up with his broad shoulders and casually opened the door. I turned to look in the studio, my mouth dropped and I was completely awe struck. It was like the Willie Wonka of art factories. I felt like dancing, but there was artists at work. This was more than I had imagined. It was creativity heaven. Any medium you could think of in every shade. Paint in cans, bottles, jars, and on canvases that were strewn from the floor to the ceiling. And it was a high ceiling. There was nails, wood, glue, artist made tables and fixtures everywhere. I felt creative just walking in. I was amazed. Where have I been? How could this wondrous place be in my town and I never knew about it?
After shuffling around and attempting to contain myself. We found a table to sit at and began to talk. He seemed a bit unsure, at first. He began to warm up after a few questions, a cigarette, and a finished can of something alcoholic. I enjoyed listening to him speak. He spoke soft and monotone. His voice was so easy to listen to, even with the noise of the art demanding my attention.
Chad had started as an artist after the passing of a friend which led him into gifting art for others. He surprised the family, band mates, and close friends with portraits he created. After some time, he broke away from stencil work and graffiti and started doing work that came straight from his own mind. It felt more like his work. It’s a challenge for him as an artist to put his art out there for the world to see while facing criticism.
“You can’t take anyone personal ever because that’s their own insecurities. You can pick and choose what to take from it to better yourself,” he says. He even shared that he’s been called a phony because he’s sold expensive pieces around the world. Even so, he feels a freedom with his art. He focuses on that freedom and not being stuck. When he says stuck he doesn’t mean literally. He means, he doesn’t want to be stuck in the 9-5, “counting sheep” work week.
“It’s just nice to know there’s something else out there.” His freedom has ruined relationships and gained new ones. When asked by an ex-girlfriend if he was just going to skateboard and paint for the rest of his life, his reply was, “hell yea!”
On my way out the door he says, “You can ask me anything. I am an open book.” I respected his transparency, gave a genuine nod, and turned to the staircase where we had begun.