To Write, Be a Bird: Not a Balloon
Sunday morning I woke at 6am, with a belly full of butterflies: partly excited, partly nervous about attending the 2011 Emerging Writer’s Festival.
I showered, got dressed and put on makeup in silence, the boys gripped by the glow of Sunday morning cartoons. I left the breakfast mess with Mr Karen, blew a fistful of kisses and caught the early train to Melbourne.
Sitting on the train, I felt vague and giddy, like a teenager going to their first school dance. Would I look out of place? Will I stick out as a mummy who rarely leaves the house? Then I reminded myself that I’m a 31 year old woman, and I should just get over myself.
I turned my iPod to shuffle, looking for some insight from the roulette spin of my CD collection. Some people do it with the Bible (Bible dipping): I do it with the iPod.
Sparrows swerved and spiralled in the grey sky, and I began to feel light. I melted into the seat, pulled out my notebook and went to town.
I saw two sessions in the morning. I expected to be, if not blown away, then at least a little worked up by the end. It didn’t happen. Nothing was said that I couldn’t have read in a writing book. None of my sessions covered technique, or process. No-one wowed me.
The overall message I took home from the festival was that all writers are, to a certain extent, emerging. More significantly, I realised that writers are just people. The best writers are people who refine their work, and make time to write everyday. They are persistent and thick skinned. They are patient.
As Fiona Harris writes in The Victorian Writer (May-June 2011 edition): “Part of me thinks that I will always feel like an emerging writer, simply because part of the joy of writing is the constant creative challenge. … The thing that propels me forward … is the certainty that writing is something I love to do.”
Travelling home on the train, I saw a family with 2 young daughters, an orange helium balloon tied to each of their wrists. The balloons bobbed about the carriage, constantly pulling on thick, white twine: full of air, cheerful and lofty. I couldn’t help but think that by tomorrow those balloons will sink to the ground.
My thoughts then turned to the sparrows I’d seen from the morning’s train, swooping and spiralling. If I want my writing dream to fly – not just float – it needs wings. Wings that beat over and over, and in that repetition, grow dynamic, deft and dexterous. To be a writer, I need to write, read, and rewrite, day after day. It’s that simple, and that hard.
Time to stop talking about writing, and just write.
[Image credit]
Are you a Bible dipper or an iPod shuffler? When you’re nervous or excited, how do you contain yourself? … Perhaps I should get out more.
18 Responses to “To Write, Be a Bird: Not a Balloon”
Enjoyed this piece. I like your writing and thinking. Reckon just do it! Don’t overthink…..
I am a podcast shuffler….. have about 50 different ones ready to go- favourite one ever is This American Life – brilliant!
Definitely an iPod shuffle girl. Absolutely love the visual of bird’s beating wings…
Love love love this piece, Karen. I had checked out the Emerging Writers Festival brochure online and did wonder if you would be going – now I know! What a shame you were not wowed! For me, as you know, my most inspiring moment at our Writers Festival was simply finding someone inspiring. She spoke to us about “just doing, just creating” and that was what I needed to hear. I guess I do go to these events half expecting to find the key that will unleash my writing from within. But I know that all my “locks” are on the outside and that the key lies in my ability to be disciplined and determined. I love your idea about us all being emerging writers and I very much like all the lovely imagery peppered throughout your posts (especially the sparrows!). Get writing, Karen!
oh, and in answer to your question: Yes, I am a total iPod shuffler xo
I love it! Writing everyday is so good. What a beautiful image of the balloons. Here today, gone tomorrow. Unlike the words and the birds.
Shuffle that ipod. Leave the dishes. Write a lot.
xo
It’s that simple, and that hard
I smiled through this whole piece.
First, there is something weird about leaving home on your own adventure. I remember going to get my haircut a few months after my daughter was born. It was my first time leaving home and not being an enormous pregnant woman or a woman with an adorable infant. Just a woman, being me. She’s ten now, and still there’s something funny about striking out on my own.
And the conference. Sometimes, it’s great to go to these things just to confirm what we all ready know. When we can sit there and say, “knew it” it gives our knowledge some context, some measure of saying, yeah, I am a writer. I know this.
You are a writer. Take flight!
I’m sorry you didn’t find yourself wowed. I can relate though – sometimes going to events like that show you that there is no magic key or button. But that you just need to get head down and bum up. Or, indeed, eyes front, wings beating…
xx
Great reading your words.
Sorry I am a bit old, what is a “bible dipper”. I don’t own an ipod. Travelling on trains I like to look out the window and hear what is going on.
I think I focus on my breathing when I have difficulty containing myself. O I try and think of something outrageous to make me laugh.
Good luck with it all.
Bible dipping is where you randomly open up a page and read, and hope what you read helps you solve whatever ails you. I think I may have seen it in a movie … ?
The best advice about writing is from Mem Fox, which goes something like “to be a writer you have to write”. And she’s so right!!
xxxCate
Make like a sparrow Karen! I am proud of you for getting out to the Festival and thinking critcally about it. I think Al (Fibro) would confirm your fine summation! Write each day this month and see what comes of it x
One of my uni lecturers told a story about Hemingway walking into a writers conference/festival/something he’d been asked to speak at, and he looked at the room full of wanna-be writers and said ‘what are you all doing here? Why aren’t you writing?’ Love that…
Oh, I so understand that feeling of anticipation and then the reality failing to meet up to my expectations. But, I suspect, that the anticipation in just GETTING OUT is enough. I have that every time I get a couple of hours to myself (which has happened twice in the past 9 months). I can barely control myself and have to be mindful of the fact that it might not be as good as I’m hoping. But that’s OK as well.
Brilliant metaphor and perfect advice for yourself (and me) right now. I feel all determined and inspired after reading that and if nothing else, I already have a lot of faith in your talents and your ability to achieve your goals!
It’s funny how so many things in life come down to plain old hard work.
It sounds like you got lots out of the day, even if it wasn’t what you expected.
Take care.
I love your perspective, Karen – that visual image of the birds versus the balloons. It’s time to write and make it happen. x
I didn’t go to any festivals today but I did write. And as you say (or Mem Fox) you have write to be a writer. So, like you, this is what I am trying to do. It was another lovely inspired post.
Michelle
[...] To Write, Be a Bird: Not a Balloon (therhythmmethod.wordpress.com) [...]