Edmund De Waal writes in The Hare with Amber Eyes about a conversation with his teacher. They have been making clay pots, throwing them on the wheel, an action that can be akin to
walking firmly on a shuddering high wire – all control, all letting go. De Waal’s teacher said, “Be careful of the unwarranted gesture; less is more.” As you can see by this work of De Waal’s, he learned well.
You can ignore the teacher’s advice when you free-write. Indeed, thinking about any writing instruction you’ve encountered can stop you. But, when you edit – there must be a more beautiful word for playing with what you have written – when you sculpt your writing, you find the true nature of the work, the story, the sentence that when you read it later feels like a perfectly shaped pot in your hands.
I read De Waal’s teacher’s words this morning and they come back to me again and again: Be careful of the unwarranted gesture. I think not so much of writing, but of the friendships I’ve hurt and sometimes destroyed because I couldn’t not meddle and the love that I’ve killed by trying to get it perfect. I can dance on that shuddering high wire when I write. I’m still learning when I live to hold back my hand.
Here is a prompt: I couldn’t stop myself…. Please send me what emerges for you and let me know if I can publish it here next week. Thank you. ms
Helen Daley-Newhouse responded to last week’s Breakthrough tip. I love this!
STOP: Breakthrough for January 14, 2016
I am throwing caution to the wind in the hopes of getting myself out of an overall slump. I have reached a crossroad in my life and feel the need to re-invent myself. So, I am taking Mary’s challenge to literally STOP for one hour and then write for the same amount of time. For me, this will be challenging but hopefully achievable. The timer has been set…
Times up!
As I sat down to wait out my hour I was actually becoming anxious. What will I do with myself? So an inner dialogue began between me and myself. Meditate!“ I heard myself say. MEDITATE! You haven’t a freaking clue in the world how to mediate!
Note to self: don’t forget to watch Oprah’s Master Class this evening.
I need to call Patty to see when she and Bill are coming to Halifax.
Shit! Don’t forget to call the Woodward’s and remind them there final payment is due.
Suddenly I realize I’m in full ADHD mode. My channels are changing faster than any ordinary person can imagine.
Helen, what is ordinary? Is anyone really ordinary? Perhaps ADHD is a gift that so called “ordinary” folks lose out on. No! It’s a burden. It gets me in trouble more times than not. Thankfully Dale (my husband) has come to understand my quirkiness. I hyper-focus on some things and the next minute I can’t remember what I was doing. It is not unusual for me to speak out and offend someone. It isn’t intentional or mean spirited. It comes into my mind and exits my mouth.
What was the purpose of me sitting quietly anyway? Oh, yes! Helen, let’s take this opportunity to think about what you’ll write for an hour?
Note to self: remember to iron the linen napkins before our dinner party next Saturday night. I wonder if I will remember. Write a note and stick it on your computer. Good idea. Can’t do it now, I have to stop for an hour.
Remind Dale to complete his DNA project and send it into National Geographic. Maybe we’ll have some information before we go to Europe in April.
April 16 is our 16th wedding anniversary. We are taking a river cruise on April 16, 2016. That will never happen again. Damn! We are so lucky. Let’s check out the weather for that time of year. I notice I always refer to the conversations I have with myself in the plural. Perhaps I’m a descendent of Queen Victoria.
I just had an Oprah AH HA moment! Instead of thinking of my ADHD as quirky, moving forward I will describe it as being enthusiastic. I have an enthusiastic brain. Unfortunately, that enthusiasm often creates disappointment. It was tough being a kid with ADD. I wasn’t diagnosed until around 10 years ago and I’m currently in my 68th year. When I was a child no one had a clue in the world that ADD is a disorder. I was a rascal, an imp, and a rambunctious child that disrupted the classroom.
I remember a few years ago, I took my Cocker Spaniel puppy to obedience classes, which were held in the auditorium of a nursing home. By chance, I met one of the residents who happened to be long standing friends of my grandparents. When I introduced myself, he exclaimed, “Oh! Nance and I always felt sorry for you. Your grand-parents didn’t like you very much.” At the time it was quite a jarring slap in the face. Once diagnosed I completely understood why they felt that way. I’m not condoning how they felt, but I understand why they felt I was a menace. Life would have been easier for all of us had there been an understanding of why some kids didn’t function well under certain circumstances.
All levels of school were difficult. I had and still have the concentration span of an ant. Studying was tedious because I read the same paragraph over and over because I couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember the gist of it. Memorizing was my strong suit. I didn’t have to understand what I was reading, just as long as I could recite it. The night before an exam I would discuss the course with a fellow student and manage to squeak through with a C – or a D.
I flunked out of my first year in university. The following year I received a medical dismissal due to an infection in the lining of my heart. I know now that illness is very common in children with ADD. Stress is the factor.
By the time I made it into the professional world I was a genius at bluffing. In the middle of a meeting if someone asked me a question I would explain I needed time to review everything and would have the answer to him or her within a specific timeframe. Note taking was terrible because I would zone out during the meeting. So I would approach colleagues after the meeting and get their take on things.
I have been a fraud my entire life. Helen, that was a nasty thing to say about your self. You are who you are, and those who can’t appreciate you then they can just go to Hell. I have a husband who has learned to cope with my idiosyncrasies and actually appreciates my random, creative, “enthusiastic” brain.
Helen, your mentor and sister-in-writing feels the same way. Thank you for giving this to us to read. ms
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