08 November 2010

Words that Fly

I'm writing fiction again, and I feel the joy of it bubbling out of my soul into everything I do.

It's true: I'm a better person when I'm writing fiction. I'm gentler with my daughter, more giving to my husband, more willing to do tedious tasks at work without complaining. I have more energy, I don't mind being tired nearly as much, and I deal better when things don't work out right.

I'm surprised most of the people in my life don't push me to write more often.

Writing fiction . . . well, I'm tempted to say that it's like crack to me, but the truth is that it's better than that. It's like a million roller coaster rides, one after the other. It's like having a pile of the best chocolate chip cookies in the world and knowing that the calories will fall out as soon as I take a bite. It's like something that got knocked over inside is set right again.

It helps that I love this story. I love the complicated back story, the multiplicity of complex characters and how their complexities interact. I love the changes that need to take place and how they happen. I love the fun of it, the joy and the awkwardness (because there's nothing I like more as a writer than putting my characters in awkward situations), how writing it, even when it's hard, feels like a romp in the snow.

And so today I'm grateful for the writer's high, for Elizabeth's comp book covers, for fountain pens and colored jewel-tone Levenger ink. I'm grateful for my little MacBook and its purple case, and for words with wings, that take us places we couldn't otherwise visit. I'm grateful for stories that stand the test of time, ideas that grow as the weeks pass instead of shriveling. And I'm grateful for all the books I've read as inspiration, and that my own journey leads me here.

Adding my small stack of gifts to the pile over at Ann's place.

5 comments:

Misty said...

sarah i love this post in the happiest of ways. you may know what i mean when i say i was on the lit track, not writing, in college, and that i often don't feel like a Writer b/cs my poetry feels feeble at times and i've never tried my hand at fiction (oh! i want to, i just am scared!). so i love love love that your words have wings. i love that you have a journey of books and poets and perhaps even your own feeble beginnings to bring you to this current place. write away, friend!!!

terri said...

yay! yay! yay!

i love this with you. it is a wonderful thing when writing comes to us. i'm not a fiction writer, but the way you describe it makes me want to try it. cause, dang, who gets to have that much fun and not land in rehab later on? :)

Heather said...

This post made me smile. It made me think of L'Engle's Walking on Water where she talks about being a mom and writer. (I think I need to reread that book, actually. It's been years.) Write, my friend, write!

Joelle said...

Hurray! I love that you love writing fiction. And I hadn't thought of it until you said it, but I'm a better person when I write poetry. David Whyte encourages people to begin the day with what they were born to do, what they are called to, and the rest of the day will be magical. You'll see everything through different eyes. I get that. It makes such a difference. Can't wait to read this story you're creating!

christianne said...

I loved reading this post about what writing does to you! And I'm so glad you took the plunge and committed to this writing time and project.

Terri's comment about rehab made me laugh, and Joelle's note about starting the day with what we are born to do makes so much sense to me. These quiet mornings I keep clinging to ... they're important in a deep way, I think, even beyond the need for routine.