Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

But what kept coming to the forefront was a line:

She was the kind of woman who didn’t want to be alone.

I didn’t have my notebook with me, so I told David to help me remember the words. Why? Because you never know where those thoughts might lead.

I’ve been thinking about this woman for several hours now–who is she? why doesn’t she want to be alone?– and I think I have the kernel of a story.

The work begins.

I was surprised how many people stopped by the studio last week, asking for adult writing workshops. I miss the writing feedback, too. Sooooo, let’s give it a whirl. Starting Wednesdays at 11am, it’s Wednesday Words!

Join us for a writing workshop-style class (gentle feedback) for whatever writing you want to share. I love the Amherst Affirmations that Pat Schneider developed:

Time/day: Wednesdays at 11 beginning March 14

Cost: $15/session Please call to register/space limited

540-907-9732

Today I labored over a poem about my grandfather’s workshop. Since my dad’s death nearly two years ago, the building and all the tools have remained untouched, forgotten. When I visited my mother last fall, I looked out the dining room window, staring at the shop, partially hidden by trees in the backyard. Abandoned, I kept thinking.

I’ve been trying to write the poem ever since. When I left the studio today to run some errands, images of the old building kept popping into my head, and I found myself trying to write and revise in my head as I drove around town.

A pleasant way to spend the day…..

And, yet, this morning, I can’t seem to follow my own advice.

Each Thursday, I participate in what Elizabeth calls “An Art Experience.” She offers a small group of us the chance to explore various media in whatever way we choose. She challenges us to let go and urges us to take risks. This is what I tell teachers I work with all the time. This should come easily, I think.

But it doesn’t.

As I mix my watercolor paints, trying to get the perfect ocean blue or pastel green, I feel my anxiety and frustration. “It’s not working,” I think, as I struggle to find the comfortable space between the sky and sea or tree and leaf. My house looks like a tent, and my chicken looks frozen in time, ready to be covered with yellow sugar and placed in an Easter basket. Not what I’d envisioned.

Elizabeth smiles. She knows that continued playing and putting brush to paper (or charcoal to canvas) will eventually allow me to find myself in my art, to create whatever it is I am striving for. She applauds when I pull out my colored pencils and draw on a background of watercolor and grins when I decide to dribble water on the charcoal “just to see what happens.”

Vygotsky says “children tend to create only for themselves, whereas adults create both for themselves and for the world in which they live.” I wonder if this is the block, the filter through which adults try to create. We fear judgment.

Elizabeth reassures me today, and I try again. I think she would agree with this quote from a Scottish education site:

Creativity is not just about special people doing special things. We all have the potential to be creative….a skill that needs to be developed.

During Writing Workshop, students were to write a Tanka poem, which I had never heard of (not being a writer of “form” poems). Most began playing with words, hands up in the air as they counted syllables and tried to make their words fit. But one young man sat silently in the back of the room.

“I can’t do this,” he said, looking down. “I don’t write poetry.”

I could tell he was struggling, embarrassed to have nothing on his monitor but a blank screen.

“Do you have some ideas of what you might like to write about?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But I only write essays. Not poetry.”

“Well, then write an essay,” I said. “Write a short essay. And when you have finished, take your pen and circle all the powerful words you’ve written but only the really good ones. Those can be the start of your poem.”

He looked up, his eyes widening. Nodding, he gulped and straightened his shoulders.

‘Does that work for you?” I asked.

“Yep,” he said, beginning to click away on the keyboard.

A tiny suggestion. A shift in perspective. A new lens.

A poem begins with a lump in the throat
Robert Frost

I also love the NanoWriMo site for young folks. The November project is finished for the year, but the site contains fabulous links to explore. Check out the Young Writer’s Notebook free download.