Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Passion
I have a passion for words, and for wordsmiths. Well-crafted writing, whether personal, hand-scrawled notes on the inside of dime-store greeting cards; or twenty-page sonnets on watching paint dry; or above-the-fold, front page reporting; or 800-page tomes on anything that would take me a month to get through - do it well and I will be your word-slut for the rest of my life.
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Good writing, a well-turned phrase, the seductive arrangement of three or four words (it takes so little sometimes) and I quiver, I shiver, I swoon, I melt. My pupils dilate and contract rhythmically, my pulse quickens and becomes visible at that hollow at the base of my neck and I open my soul to the writer. Reading becomes a sensual experience for me. (I'm not talking pornography, here, although there sometimes is good writing to be found in [some] pornography.)
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Sometimes words are put together in such a fashion as to make me gasp for air. They thrust themselves inside my brain and pulsate, resonate and harmonize with my synapses so ardently that I have to stop reading until I can regain control of my emotions, my senses.
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I find good writing in essays, in novels, in poems, in newspaper/magazine articles, in humor...in the oddest of places, sometimes, even in advertising.
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Usually, I savor the moments silently. Rarely do I try to share my experiences because I don't express myself well enough to convey the effect the words had.
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Good writing produces a sort of music in me, paints images in colors and intensities that overwhelm me at times; creates a longing in my heart for something I don't know how to explain. The closest I can come is to say it makes me want to meld with the words, as if I were the platen on which the words had been struck, forever captured in its core, held and revisited forever after.
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I treasure good writing. I am in awe of their creators, several of whom I have found on the Internet and follow every day.
(c) 2009 All rights reserved. Martha McLemore
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31 comments:
I think you write very well indeed but perhaps you mean long pieces like novels. I'm a very picky reader.. well, okay I do like sci-fi but it has to be well written. Of course, there are people who write well and then there are the geniuses. I have too many bad writing habits to ever write good fiction but I know what I like and I understand what you meant when you said 'meld with the words, as if I were the platen on which the words had been struck'. Wow, nice image.
I read Amitav Ghosh's 'Sea of Poppies' recently. He is one of those who will eventually win a Nobel prize for literature.
"Forget how soon you become a fool for words when I speak..."
That line from one of Chris Cornell's old songs has always stuck with me for all of the reasons you've described. Very apt.
the love affair with language ... in all its lovely expressive forms... great image and lovely reflection on how good writing is such a gift for the heart
I could not agree with you more. Very well said, indeed.
My second post to my blog talked about my love of language. If you get a minute, here is my freshman perspective.
http://prattlefromtheflatlands.blogspot.com/2008/08/vocabulary-101.html
Hi! Glad I've stumbled upon you. The name of your blog attarcted and intrigued me, much as crows (and all creatures)do. I too love language. Words are a beautiful medium. I like how you've used them here.
I love your description of how we feel with good prose. While reading something by Pynchon or Cormac McCarthy, I often find myself reading slower and slower as I approach the end, savoring every word, making it last.
The Belle of Amherst
Well, this post is its own beautifully crafted work of love. I don't think I have quite the visceral reaction you describe, but I come close sometimes. When something is well written, I notice that I must read it at least twice to thoroughly enjoy it.
Just like I did here. Twice. Had to.
Susan – Thank you for your compliment. I learn more about writing every day, especially from visiting blogs like yours. My best regards to Crow.
I googled Amitav Ghosh and will look for his works at the library. Thanks for the introduction.
Kali – I don’t know Chris Cornell’s work, but I certainly like that line of his you posted. Yes, I am a real “fool for words”! Another name to Google.
Harlequin – “…good writing is such a gift for the heart.” I think so, too. That’s one of the reasons I keep returning to your blog, by the way.
Pyzhan – I read the post you referenced (and most of the others while I was there.) Absolutely loved Meeting of the Minds, especially the Dorothy Parker bit!
On my scraps of paper are words or phrases I’ve written down that came to me in inopportune flashes when I was busy doing other things. Most of them were just a few words, which I usually recalled in context, and used as I had intended. Except for one. I keep it in my box of half-finished stories and my 11-page novel (that’s as far as I’ve gotten). On that scrap of paper are three words and a comma; that’s all. I was so damned sure I would remember what those three words referenced that I didn’t bother writing anything else. Did I remember? Of course not!
Deedee - Have you considered working as a writer? You put words together very well, and have a gift for storytelling, too. I loved reading about teaching the religious studies class!
:D
EcoRover - I understand that, completely. When I come across a particularly good passage, I back up to a couple of paragraphs before the savory passage and slowly go through it again.
Ghost Dansing - I listened to the song at the link you gave. Was a fitting tribute to Dickinson; very good! Thank you for visiting and for the pointer.
Lisa - There are varying degrees of response. What I described in this post is the most extreme reaction. I had read something a few days ago that contained a line that made me catch my breath. I couldn't find the words then to respond to the writer at his blog. I kept thinking about those six or seven words, the result being this post about my Passion.
Usually, my response to good writing is similar to yours and to EcoRover's - I savor the moments, like savoring good food and good music and good art. I don't know why certain wordings cause the more visceral response; will have to ponder that awhile.
Thank you, GoldenGirl, for your kind words. Are you all moved in yet?
Hi Crowe
Thanks for your visit and thoughts – I have linked to your blog and may comment from time to time. Your passion for reading good writing is one shared by many bloggers including myself. Many bloggers stories and writings are examples of what a good friend of mine said in his introduction to a book ( he is an Award –winning story writer and academic ) “More and more there is an emphasis in the cultural and academic fold on the study of diaries, life-stories and reminiscences , as these stories provide a kaleidoscope of what life is really about, growing up, marriage, wars, depression, discrimination, love; the list, of course is inexhaustible”
As your spring gives way to our winter I will check to see your ever changing landscape. Best wishes
Looks more like an intermission in the Kreutzer sonata. I bet when they resumed they went on to the Spring, full of light and bounce.
I suppose when the subject is passion one can expect passionate prose. "My pupils dilate and contract rhythmically" - wow! However I like the fact you're not afraid to touch on difficult areas like pornography. I recently re-read Updike's "Couples" which is a million miles away from the legal definition of porn ("tends to deprave and corrupt") but you can see how a determined Massachusetts council-man might make a mouth-foaming case out of it. Yet the prose is witty, inventive and (Whisper it not in Gath) frequently beautiful.
But your best point is the reference to an imaginary sonnet on watching paint dry. Fact is, it would have to be good, there'd be none of the hiding places that arise when mooning on about communing with nature. Hey I'd read it and you know the problems I have (am having) with poetry. Recent optimism about imminent publication now seems unfounded.
But perhaps if I did write such a sonnet it might act as a purge. Hmmm.
The Hmmm became a Yes. I did write a sonnet (My first ever. I had to ask Google for the line/rhyme sequence) about watching paint dry and it's been despatched to my editor, presently in transit between Prague and somewhere in Swizerland. If and when I get her approval I'll post it with you, according you the role of inspirer and patron. And, belatedly, a link. It may well be a lousy sonnet but this has been a good morning's work and I feel I've passed through a small and non-malign black hole. Perhaps a white hole.
Dear Lindsaylobe:
I found your blog while reading the comments you left at someone else's blog, though I cannot remember right now whose it was. I enjoyed reading your posts, and will visit again.
It is nice to make your acquaintance.
Martha
Dear Uncle B (I'm teasing, of course):
I've always liked that painting because I think it beautifully illustrates the word passion. Notice how the fingers of her right hand still press the keys, her skirt is barely unfurled from its prior folded state, and his right hand clutches at her waist in a spasm of ardor. I always felt that I had come upon the scene one second too late to catch it from the beginning. The sound of the piano stool scraping backwards against the floor still sounds in my ears.
Was it the sonata that brought about this breach of decorum? Music does strange things to people sometimes.
Perhaps I overstated the effect some writing has on me. The response I described is not common but it does occur.
When I used the word pornography, I wasn't thinking of the legal definition, but the common, colloquial definition, which might be anything that makes a sexually repressed person squirm in their rocker. Guess I should have chosen a different word for it.
I am tickled to think that you are going to tackle a sonnet (which I now know is only 14 lines long, thanks to your comment above) on the subject of watching paint dry. I used to have a two-volume set of books on how things work - which might have been its title, come to think of it - and still have Asimov's 'The Measure of the Universe.' I like knowing why things work the way they do, and am fascinated with machines and the items they produce or shape. (Therein lies the reason I visited your blog the second time. Thereafter, it was because of your wit and the way you use words...ah, there we are again. Words.)
Whether Julia gives you a passing mark on your sonnet or not, I'd still like very much to read it. If you'd rather not post it, my email info is in the profile. Feel free to send it that way, if you choose.
Donadagohvi (Cherokee for "until we meet again," or so I've read),
Martha
I don't want to monopolise your blog but a cautionary tale needs telling. The sonnet went off to Julia in a blast of uncritical enthusiasm and I occupied myself with mundane matters. That evening I re-read it, triggering another email to Julia. "Ignore sonnet. Scansion terrible." It's revision that has kept some of life's egg off my face and I'd broken my own rule. Thank goodness my puffed-up self-regard didn't allow me to send it anywhere else. I corrected the scansion from memory as I lay abed at 6 am but once burned... I've got more re-reading.
Dear Mister B:
We have a conversation going on, and this is ours means of continuing it, so I don't consider it monopolizing, in any way.
When you are satisfied with your sonnet, I will be happy to read it.
I must tell you, in return, that I knew very little about the mechanics of poetry before I began reading your blog, and remain woefully undereducated still. I have had to scurry to my dictionaries here at home, and via Google, to try to catch up with some of what you write. All of which I enjoy, by the way, for learning is another passion.
Martha
Sorry to have come late to this conversation which touches upon much that I hold dear. On the question of letting paint dry, I can imagine that Wallace Stevens, often hard to understand, but a poet, who often wrote in metaphor, would have responded well to the challenge.
You aren't late, at all, Joe: nice to see you here.
It was your wonderful response to Lucy's first question in your Questions (http://compasses-lucyandjoe.blogspot.com/) blog that prompted this post. Would you mind if I quoted from your post in a follow-up here?
I’m off to google Wallace Stevens, for I don’t recognize his name.
:)
Martha
I love this painting. It used to be in magazines when I was little as an ad for a perfume...Tabu...I think. I remember looking at this in a magazine when I was about 8 or 9 and thinking that this is the kind of love I wanted to have when I was all grown up.
Still don't think I've found it.
i found your blog much like my friend deedee did....the name caught me. only took up blogging a few months ago, most of my ''stuff'' has been scrawled on birthday cards or notes to friends. i like the rhythm to good writing, the way it carries you through a piece. looking forward to reading more and more, jc
What wonderful passion - I would be honoured if you should ever want to quote...
Hello, Jack:
One of the best things about blogging is that it puts me in contact with other people who express themselves well. I always learn something when I visit them. I will be returning to visit yours, too.
Martha
Maria:
"Still don't think I've found it.
Nor have I. Does it even exist?
I'm not certain I would recognize the kind of love that engenders such an outburst of passion, even if it were to meet me at the airport gate wearing a sign with my name and picture on it.
I keep looking for it, though.
Good writing engages the reader, brings her/him into the words, makes a connection between the minds of creator and voyager that lingers after the words disappear from view.
You do that well, Maria. I was hunkered down in the basement with your family, waiting out the storm. I felt your chagrin when you found the cupcake on your desk. I was there, engaged and living the moments you wrote.
That's what good writing is all about.
Martha
Dear Lucy:
Thank you. I didn't want to presume.
:)
Martha
For me, there's something too about just the act of looking at the words that's magical... like how if you write or read one word too many times in a row it becomes meaningless...
I am fascinated by how such simple symbols can carry so much so far... and how some can write and intend to convey a certain mood or tone... there's something about words and how they're inherently unstable that makes them mysterious, profound, and even seductive...
Thanks for offering a pause with this post...
Words are such fun.
I play with them to my heart's content; moving them around within my mind or on the screen to create something that stimulates me.
Occasionally I get almost a physical feeling of pleasure if the combination works.
All to often, though, I flounder in the attempt and look at the words just lying there wondering how I can bring some life into them.
Never tire of trying though.
Good post.
What a lovely post and comment conversation.
I share your love of good writing. I wish I were a more careful writer myself, but I write fast and furious I am too lazy to be a good editor. This will always keep me unpublished. My material may be dynamite, but my sloth will hold me back.
Jon -
A frequent subject of my ponderings is why human kind has the gift of language, in its myriad forms, and our different means of communicating with one another.
I share your fascination with the ever-changing nature of words.
Thank you for visiting.
WB:
You wrote: "Words are such fun."
Yes, they are...and an absolute nightmare when I can't find the ones I want!
"Occasionally I get almost a physical feeling of pleasure if the combination works."
That's exactly what happens to me at times, whether I have put them together, or am reading what someone else has written.
Thank you for stopping by.
Martha
Peggy:
One of my writer friends said it is nigh onto impossible to be both a good writer and a good editor. We know you write well, all of us who follow you, so, of the two, I'm happy that you are not a good editor. That's something you can hire out.
I am hopeful I'll find your book on the shelves before too long; looking forward to it.
Martha
Hello Martha - for me it is the picture that titillates my soul - a picture burrows past all the flotsam and jetsam crowding about, and gets straight to my core. I remember that picture hanging in the livingroom of my best friend's house growing up... it was fabulous then and is still. I loved your post.
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