Writing time; Lady of Shalott

[pegkerr]

I used to devote a block of time every night, 8:30 to 10:00 p.m., Monday through Thursday to writing, when I was working on my last two books. But then I was badly blocked after finishing Swans, and gradually, in the years since then, that writing time was given up to other things as stuff was added to our schedule and time got squeezed out. Monday night is family night and also the night Rob and I do our weekly money meeting. The girls are staying up later now. I’m getting up earlier now to exercise, so I’ve been going to bed earlier, too. And I’ve gotten on the Internet since writing my last two books, too, and the delights of LiveJournal, etc., have also eaten into my time.

But I’ve added the sliver of writing time in the morning, and now I’ve decided to re-devote at least Thursday nights to writing (after the girls are in bed). No LiveJournal, or at least not until after 10:00. This is a step in the right direction, and I hope to gradually add more. I’m starting to feel like a real writer again. It may sound funny to hear that someone who had written two books and seen them published might doubt that she’s a real writer, but that’s what the block did to me. It is such a relief to feel that things are moving in the right direction again, and that I’m regularly sitting down to write and sometimes, sometimes words even come out of that mysterious place where my imagination resides. Some of them are even pretty good.

I was listening today to Loreena McKennitt’s rendition of "The Lady of Shalott" on her album "Live in Paris and Toronto," and it occurred to me today for the first time that here is another story about heart of flesh/heart of stone. When the Lady looked at Lancelot—allowed herself to love, in other words—the "mirror crack’d from side to side." I think of A.S. Byatt’s essay on ice=glass=stone. Becoming human means daring to love. Unfortunately, her daring only brings her death. (How depressing!)

Isn’t that what I’m writing about in this book? Becoming human/choosing the heart of flesh/loving means accepting impermanence/death (like the fact that the ice palace will melt). Lois McMaster Bujold said (was it in Barrayar?) that bringing a child into the world means bringing in a new life--and a new death. Rolf hopes to cheat death by living forever. Solveig (and later Jack) opposing him, know better. They live and love, but that means accepting that they will die.

Hmm. (Goes off to think some more.)

Peg

Comments

[klostes.livejournal.com]

isn't it interesting how music and musical artists can affect our work? I'm another Loreena fan; the "etheric" or otherworldly qualities of her music seem to be particularly effective for my writing--not to mention the literary qualities of her lyrics (not just the ones taken straight from poems and plays.) Another band I find working very well for my current story is "October Project." Not as ethereal as Loreena, but still powerful and evocative and with unusual voices.

Heart of stone/heart of flesh. I often wonder how current and future medical advances are going to affect our society as we learn more and more to stop the body's decay, to stave off death. And how much of the heart of flesh involves accepting not just impermanence and eventual death, but accepting loss and sorrow and pain throughout as well. There are many who would agree wiht your Rolf that the heart of stone and immortality are best, no matter their cost. Yet do they realize that true joy many times requires knowledge of sorrow? What's the worth of something that you can't truly enjoy no matter how long it lasts?

Urgh. Sorry, waxing philosophical on your journal, and just when you'd determined not to pay as much attention to it as you do to your writing. That time issue seems to always be the thing; I'm trying to carve out at least an hour every day--should be easy, but it's not always there--or my motivation isn't. I wish you well in your goals!