Writer's Block

Written on May 29, 2009

Dear Constant Readers,

I just finished watching a movie tonight and decided to work on some writing. My old roommate and one of my best friends Charles and I both enjoy writing creatively and decided to do some story exchanges, but the truth is, I’ve sometimes wondered if I have it in me to write creatively. A few months back I wrote a few pages of a story and started working on a second draft, but have since moved away from it and now am having a hard time getting back into it. That actually often happens to me. When I write a story it might take me weeks or months to write, but I need to dedicate myself to that story and no other story or I lose my pace. I may have to log this into the folder of other story ideas and beginnings I never finished.

I believe that for many good writers writing is probably challenging. For me, I don’t even know how to come up with ideas sometimes. I have very visual ideas from time to time, or at least visual enough for me to get a feeling I want to replicate. I think this is why I like to draw and why, this past week, I have dusted off my barely used water-color paints and a sketch tablet I bought back in training and have started to paint. So far I’ve done a few pictures, but only completed one of them. When I write and when I draw, it is an evolutionary process: I often only have a general gist of what is happening, but I go with it.

I try too hard perhaps, when I write. I think this is one thing that scares me from writing professionally. I would have to write on a regular basis, and I don’t know what kind of things I could say when I’m pressured to say something. I believe it was Jules Verne who signed a contract to produce a novel a year or some rate like that. And then of course there are countless other writers and novelists who do this for a living. I admire their stamina and wonder how they deal with writer’s block.

But then, I ask myself, do I love it enough? Is my heart in it? Do I like writing, or the idea of it? I think both. I think I do love it, but not perhaps with a passion I would need to not go hungry with it. (Of course hunger is a powerful motivator.) It’s this thing of discipline I mentioned in my last blog entry but didn’t really cover the way I had wanted to.

But writing fascinates me, and I do want to continue with it. It’s just that when I sit down to say something (usually in fiction) I feel stuck. I feel blank and rather uninspired, but maybe just inspired enough to feel frustrated, like there’s a murky fog in my head obscuring an otherwise useable collection of words and grammar and some plot to tinker with. In fiction writing courses in college we occasionally talked about writer’s block, but I don’t really anything constructive out of those conversations. I do remember being able to write better under a deadline, which I oddly contradicts what I said about writing as a career. I enjoyed the race I had to come up with a story, even if it wasn’t super great, it was something, an exercise to get creative stuffs firing away. Like with my drawing and new hobby painting, I applaud writing “crappy work” because it actually is not crappy work in terms of an exercise of the mind. It might be drudgework or pale in comparison with something yet to come, but gets the ball rolling, and like other practice, lessons can be learned from it.

My APCD of my program Water and Sanitation (WatSan, for short if I haven’t mentioned it, but I probably have), Jorge, came to visit me at site yesterday. He only stayed briefly and then moved onto to Patrick’s site in the afternoon. I don’t blame him for not staying longer due to his traveling itinerary, but I was disappointed to see him so briefly. This feeling surprised me a bit since initially I was very nervous he would come to site and decide I wasn’t doing enough, something that has caused me feelings of insecurity and guilt. But taking a risk, I told him about some of the things I’ve done, such as all the books I’ve been reading, some of the games I’ve played on the computer, and now I am painting, in addition to a list I had drawn up of potential projects I think would be helpful to the community and am interested in doing. Instead of being upset, Jorge just smiled and talked about how some of his volunteers constantly need to be busy with something, whereas I am a person who is content to spend time in a more quiet fashion, reading and so forth. He said that some of the other volunteers, were they in my site, would go crazy here, but that I am actually doing quite well because of my personality which allows me to spend more time alone. This was a relief and made me feel more confident in my own person as well as in my work here.

Often I’ve learned this lesson in life. It just keeps being repeated: Usually there is no reason at all to worry about something. I just hope I can keep this in mind now. My first near quarter century of life was filled with enough worry to last however much time God has given me.

Well, it’s nearly tomorrow now, so I think I’ll end this entry here.

Addendum: Patrick said that he wanted to make an appearance in my blog. So here’s something. I loaned him twenty soles so he could buy a phone card. He now insists that in addition to that money, *I should be the one paying him back* in twenty soles’ worth of chocolate candy. I think the starch in his food is getting to his mind.

Tristan

Some Philosphical Musings

Written on May 24, 2009

Dear Constant Readers,

To start out with, I’ve been doing some more thinking, which is what I usually do anyway. I’ve noticed areas in my life that I would like to improve, and things that have caused me frustration which I’m wondering about now, is it even worth getting worked up over?

As usual, a major catalyst of my thinking has been my reading, but also I have noticed activities or habits in my life that seem to be wasteful or unproductive. This is all part of the process to get to know myself better; something which I think is an often misinterpreted statement. At least in my mind I’ve misunderstood it before. Sometimes when someone says “get to know something,” they have a specific goal in mind, and when that goal is reached, their mission has been realized. However, getting to know something means also a constantly on-going process, something that has as few stopping points as a river. It is constantly moving and ever-changing, and if you get to know only a certain point of it, you will know almost none of it. A river has various depths, currents, angles, areas of smoothness and areas of turbulence. It is always making an impact of some kind: a bank touched by the water will never been the same afterwards, and even though it is the same river by name, it is not the same water, much how in our own physical bodies even: our ideas grow or change, and even our cells die and are replaced such that after a point our name is almost the only thing that has remained (I would argue there is something beyond that as well, on a spiritual realm, that more solidly anchors our uniqueness, as well). But the point is, getting to know something, including even one’s personal self, should be, if it were visually stated, “I am getting to know…………………..” instead of “I am getting to know,” as it is never really a finished process until life is expired.

That said, one thing that bothers me is how I feel I am wasteful with my time and would like to increase a sense of self-discipline. I am one of the millions, or more likely billions of those who have hardly any idea where they are headed or even where they want to go in life. I have some general ideas, enough to give me a sense of direction; but then maybe that’s all we really need. Maybe the idea of a certain set goal, an end, is not really the point of life. Maybe achieving something doesn’t bring a desired fulfillment that is believed to be the key to. I am not anti-Western culture. In fact I think I am more comfortable when I’m living in the privilege that we have. I would like to live in work in the USA or Europe perhaps. But I think it has made some serious mistakes in terms of how it defines success. Success measured in materials or money seems to be like cotton candy or a mirage to aim at. I think as an end it’s probably a hollow and unhappy one. What if life is more fulfilled in the living it, the journey of it, and its lessons? I’m not trying to do away with the importance of working to live, and I don’t mean to say we should all act like the wise man sitting on top of a mountain, but that there is a different attitude we need to adopt in the journey of life. An attitude that doesn’t mean search for reassurance from outside sources as if something separate can make us whole, but realizing that we are whole if we accept already that we are. Maybe not perfect in the sense of being the ideal human with the problem free life, but perfect in the idea that we are where we are supposed to be? To use an example from nature, a tree has no thought that we know of, but if it did, would it compare itself with others? Or would it be satisfied with its situation? A tree can still get sick, get damaged by wind or lightening, carved up by people with knives, chopped down and so forth, would that make a tree less perfect? It is what it is. So are rocks, so are fish, and so on. So what about us? I don’t mean perfection by means of one who makes no errors, is lacking in wisdom, and sometimes hurts others. Our actions aren’t always perfect, often they are the opposite. But our situations are where we are, and there is no need to fight what is, perhaps.
There are things in this world we need to change. The environment is in peril. Population-related problems are on the rise. There is constant fighting and crime among people. All of these are common examples, and I don’t think we should ignore them, but these are things that we can improve. However, I think we should try to know that in the process of fixing problems which we can fix and accepting what we cannot, we will have a better chance of survival and in finding happiness. Ultimately it involves becoming more in touch with one’s self and with the world around it.

I admit I haven’t yet been able to think out what the implications of all this is. It could be these are all well-meaning but naïve ideas. They might all be short-sighted, but I don’t think they are necessarily headed in the wrong direction. And I know that these ideas aren’t original either, nor have I lived up to them on a daily basis. And I do acknowledge that much of the world would disagree that their lives are perfect when they are sick, starving, in the middle of a war, illiterate, so on. I’m not trying to be arrogant or insensitive, as life is challenging, and some people face more challenges than others. But the attitude with how one faces challenges is more important than the challenges themselves. CS Lewis once said that tragedy like war or an accident or a house burning down doesn’t give people courage or concern that they didn’t already have. It merely brought it out. He didn’t mean that these are ultimately good situations; the point was that we have “the right stuff” in us all along.

And I have to say, sometimes I think if this is what I am doing as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I feel a bit guilty because I don’t think I was sent here to philosophize and ponder life. However, I do that habitually, and I’ve done it ever since I was a little kid sitting on a swing set lost in my imagination while everyone else played football, soccer, went down slides.

I’m very aware that I often forget to take things as they come even here in my blog complain about things that probably are really just little concerns, but then I make mistakes too, both in my actions and in fretting about things. All of us have something to learn. I have dreams just like everyone. And I’m trying to realize them, hence being better self-disciplined with how I spend my life and my energy to achieve a fulfilling life. We are all in the flow of life, the river of it, and the realization of this is maybe more of an achievement than in outside goal that we often aim for. There’s something for us all to learn.

Tristan

Books, Cars, Sewers and a Dog

Written May 1, 2009)
Dear Constant Readers,

I attempted to write an entry two nights ago, but I found I had little to say and my entry disintegrated into a listing of books and so forth. Yet not without good reason. Since arriving in Peru back in August, I’ve counted 26 books I’ve either read or, having read back home, read anew. These past two weeks alone I’ve read or finished five books and have working on two others, one of them being once again “The Power of Now” and the other being a biography of about an Italian Cardinal who, while residing in his home city of Bologna, mastered around 38 languages and over 50 dialects of the various languages.

The two projects I wanted to do in site were dry latrines (composting toilets) and a water filter system. Yet the population of my town has their hearts set on a sewer system. I don’t blame them, but I don’t think it’s in the best interest of the town, due to its remoteness, mainly. While building their sewer system, I was told they are going to put in a treatment facility for their potable water, which then rules out me wanting to work on filters. I’m not too disappointed about it; after all, the town should benefit, and I’m sure that there will still be plenty for me to help with, but I was very curious about seeing how these projects would go together. As I’ve never really been taken with the idea of working with people working with a form of technology seemed fun for me. Even as a little kid I could lose myself just building gadgets out of Legos, from submarines to miniature movie sets, complete with two or three cameras (many years ago my dream was to go into movie-making).

The last month has been busy as far as traveling goes. I went to Mancora (a beach town) for Easter and met several fellow PCVs there. Immediately afterwards I had a Peace Corps meeting on the topic of HIV-Aids education in our sites. All told, I believe I was gone for nearly two weeks of the month. In site, however, there has been little news with one major exception: the roads are repaired enough for cars to come up to site again. So I am looking forward to sitting down on the way to my capital city rather than hoofing it for three and a half hours. The rain has proven to still be present, however. There is rarely any sun to speak of, and although the roads are drying up, there is still plenty of mud. Still, as I am adjusted here, it’s not as bad as it might sound. I am also planning to help a couple of teachers teach English in the schools in my town. I have only helped with on class so far, the equivalent of a first grade class maybe. I have yet to see a shred of evidence that God blessed me with a skill to pass along knowledge in a classroom. But with a teacher there, I am willing to help, especially in terms of spelling or pronunciation.

Mostly, I’ve stated, I have been reading. I’ve also been diving into my French studies, with basically is me reading “The Stranger” in French by Albert Camus at this point. I try to make a point to study it every day I’m in site. It reminds me, however, that even though a few blog entries ago I said I was pretty well set on seeking a career in linguistics, I’ve thought more about it and have decided that for the moment I am not really in a position, nor really have the desire, to lock myself into any career path. I guess I have a general direction I’m interested in, but I’ve decided not to make too many plans and just try to keep my options open. Besides, if teaching at any level proves to be distasteful to me, as I suspect may be the case, I doubt a field in academia is for me.

On a note of local interest, my host mom’s dog died yesterday (April 30th). But its death was no accident. The dog was in fact poisoned by person or persons unknown. It wasn’t exactly a popular animal, and I myself had no great love for him. It wasn’t so bad that he slept outside my room, but because he whined and howled and barked into the night, I sometimes thought of throwing rocks at him (I never did though). He would chase animals and get into fights with dogs on the street, and that was the problem. So eventually someone decided they had enough and sabotaged his life. Even though I didn’t really like the dog, I still think that was unfair and especially unneighborly. Since he wandered off to die in the night, Orfelinda had to get fetch him. Being a five or six year old golden lab, he was too heavy for Orfelinda to carry, so she tied a rope around his neck and dragged him down the street to her house. Once there, she retrieved a shovel and I helped her car an iron bar known as a “bareta” in Spanish (I don’t know the English world) so she could break through the roots and rocks in her field to bury him. After dragging Sentimiento through a creek and to her field we dug a small grave. When she put the dog inside he didn’t fit. Orfelinda suggested finding a stick and mashing him into the hole, but we both quickly jettisoned that idea. After enlargening the grave we finally buried him. Overall Orfelinda had a very good attitude, but was still clearly very irritated with whichever fellow Rinconadian poisoned her pooch. And it’s kind of strange to not have the Sentimiento around, because whenever he wasn’t annoying me or terrorizing a pig walking by that should have been locked in its pen in the first place, he was actually a good dog to the family.

I guess that’s kind of a downer to end on, so let me see if I can find something else to say. As I wrote above, I’m re-reading “The Power of Now” and it’s much more powerful the second time around because I’m able to see better how a lot of the things the author Eckhart Tolle suggests. I still have been struggling to find the “Now,” as he calls it. Basically his point is that people have become addicted to thought. They get stuck in the past and the feeling it provokes, or they worry or strive so hard for the future, that in both cases they lose sight of the fact that both places are unattainable because the only moment a person is ever in is the immediate present. Most of what he says in the book is actually common sense when one stops and thinks about it, but it’s so basic that it’s easy to see why people lose track of the essence of what it means to live in the moment (a phrase which I think might be often misused). Anyway, I also like how the book is not religious, but rather spiritual, and how it can go with several different belief systems, as the individual case may be. Since this is such a journey for me, too, I can see how it applies to my life.

For all those who wish, please write me, I’d love to hear from you!

Tristan Foy