Beautiful words on writing by Elizabeth Berg.

If it's any consolation for those of you who aren't able to go to a retreat space far away, please know that you can do this sort of thing yourself, locally. I used to go to a really cheap B&B one hour from my house, alone. Whatever you can do to just find a place where you can breathe, and think, and take the time you hardly ever have to devote to your craft will be so very beneficial. You can even find a room or space at the library to call your own once a week or so. Take along a book you find inspiring, take along pen and paper or your computer, and give yourself the luxury of letting your imagination go. The most important thing you can do if you want to write is not take classes or go to retreats or obtain degrees but to really commit to that longing inside to get what's in there, out. And as a lot of writers say, myself included, the best instruction in writing comes from reading. Make a promise to yourself to read at LEAST half an hour a day, much more if you can. And keep a pencil and notebook by your beside for those great ideas that come in the dead of night. Be watchful of the way people move, and listen to how they talk. Observe your species all the time, and if you can do so with great love and forgiveness and hope, so much the better--for them and for you. - Elizabeth Berg

I have said it before and I will say it again, she is my absolute fav author of all time. I have many that I love, but I think she is the one I can read again and again. Time slows down when I read her work. And I feel a sense of peace and presence which I don't often get when I read other writers, so this is one of many reasons I love her. Also, her work is very real and easy to read, but deep and meaningful too. 

Don't you just love the quote above? And oh my gosh - to have a reason to read so much! Joy.

Let's get it done

Do you set yourself a daily or a weekly word count that you have to reach? I haven't but I think I must try. For as much as I write, I never get anything finished that is over a few pages long. My aim now is to finish.

On that note, here is a quote from the wonderful Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat Pray Love) "Done is better than Good."

People's stories

I love hearing other people's life stories. Their real stories. About how they ended up where they are. I love to hear why they do the work they do: whether it was by chance (vluk) or by design. I love to hear about how they ended up in the relationships they have. Why they stayed or left. How they feel about it all. I just LOVE it all. I could talk to people, both random strangers and friends, for hours, about their lives.

This was one of the things I really enjoyed about working in retail (a jewelery store), way back when. I got to hear people's stories.

I would hear the customer's stories of how they met and got engaged when selling them an engagement ring, or I heard about a long and happy marriage when they bought commemorative jewelery.

I also loved hearing my colleagues life-stories. Like the divorced single mom who worked these crazy retail hours to support her child when she was actually qualified to do better things, but those things didn't pay as well. And the store assistant, who, in her thirties, was working two jobs and studying law. Or the young single Afrikaans guy who had the sweetest and softest heart and was looking to make his way in the world.

We all eventually moved on to other jobs and parted ways, but I have also loved hearing how these people are doing now, what paths their lives have taken, and how they feel and how they are doing. It's not often you get a true glimpse inside someone's life, and even more rare when you get a glimpse of how they really feel about their lives, so when I get that, I am enraptured and enthralled. I like to compare their life to mine, not in a mean way, but just for interest sake and sometimes to take stock.

Other than that, I don't know why I love it so much, hearing life stories, but it explains my love for reading biographies and autobiographies, and the latest trend, memoirs. I really love it when someone is gut-wrenchingly honest in the telling of their tale, because I guess it helps me figure out how I feel about my own life and it's experiences.

I guess I love hearing other people's stories because it always helps put my own (seemingly lost and drifting) life story into perspective. I feel luckier and also less than. Some stories and people inspire me to do more and be more, others make me feel grateful for the small life I have led so far.

Like a lot of us, I too am plagued with questions like: what should I have done with my life? Should I have done more? Less? Taken a different path? Is this the right path I am on?

But the older I get, the less these questions mean to me. The older I get, the more I see that my path is fine, simply because I am on it. And at the risk of rhyming here, I will say that my path is fine because it's mine.

I am starting to think that it doesn't really matter whether I earn millions or not. Whether I married or not. Whether I even become the writer that I still dream of becoming or not. Because ultimately, what matters is who I am being, not what I am doing or achieving.

But it's still nice to swop life stories with old friends and new, just for interests' sake.

Why I love to write

The quick answer is: I just do. I don't know why, but I just love to write.

The long answer would be: I just love putting words on paper. Writing helps me to clear my thoughts. It helps me to feel connected to myself. It makes my feelings real. It validates me. I adore words and I adore how one can paint a picture or a seen with words, just like an artist can do with paint (and I am also an artist too, by the way).

Since I was actually able to write, I did. From the age of seven I started writing little stories and I haven't stopped since. I don't personally know of any other seven year old that spends hours creating and writing stories. (I have read of other writers saying they did this, but I haven't met any of them.) So as a child I did feel a little different but I was oh so happy to write.

One of my first little stories was called "Myrtle the Turtle" which I wrote and illustrated in pencil. I still have the pages. I also have a fully colour-illustrated children's story called "Bonzo The Dog" which I wrote at the age of fourteen during the school holidays. This was my idea of a fun way to spend my school holidays. I got my mom to type it up and we sent it off to a few publishers. (It got rejected, of course, but I wasn't too fazed back then, thinking I had my whole life to pursue this love of mine.)

So, looking back, I can see that my love of writing has been with me since before I could question it, and I assume it is a pure desire that I have and not stemming from my ego. Naturally, as I became older, my ego did distort my passion. Fear crept in (as it tends to do) and I worried about what people would think and rejection and sounding silly on the page and having nothing valid to say. And the list of fears and worries goes on....

But along with the fear, I started fantasizing about fame, and writing a "great" novel. (Don't we all?) That is a sure sign of the ego creeping in.

However, even with my fear and ego distracting me, I still had (and still have) this intense desire to write, no matter what. Over the years have started about seven blogs. (And deleted them because they were not focused on the "real" thing which is writing). I have also written pages and pages - some articles,some short stories and started on some book ideas.

Throughout my twenties I believed that I was still too young to write anything worth reading. Oddly enough at that time, I dated a guy (my first serious boyfriend) who also dreamt of writing a great novel, and his theory was that he could only write something "great" after the age of thirty, when he had collected some life experience. I tended to agree with him. After all, what could a twenty-something year old write that would be new or wise in any way?

However, I am now 35 years old with enough life experience and yet I still haven't written anything. And by written, I mean anything that is getting published. Except for one piece that got published in Odyssey Magazine years ago and a small children's book that was published when I was 18 by a tiny publisher called Umsinsi Press. (See how I discount my two small successes?) So let me re-phrase: I have written loads, I just haven't done anything with my writing and I have lots of work that remains unfinished.

So what now? Well, now I need to simply DO IT (and finish more stuff) and let go of the outcome. Easier said than written but definitely worth a shot.

Boredom leads to Creativity

Boredom is essential to creativity. I believe this fully.

We have to let our minds relax, empty and not be entertained by stuff outside. Then we will get bored. We may feel lonely, agitated, irritable and restless for a while - or in other words - BORED.

Then, when we realise there is no entertainment coming our way, our minds will settle again, and that is when the magic happens. We may think of a song, a poem, a painting or we may go outside and just notice. We will notice the flowers. The sunset. The clouds. This is all creativity.

I have seen this happen in my child. The restless-boredom-creative cycle. He will be irritable and whiny because he is at a loose end, but, if I don't step in and entertain him, I have noticed that after a while he settles into a wonderfully creative game with whatever is around him at home.

Which brings me to comment on our modern lives - we stuff ourselves full of entertainment all the time. This is killing our creativity. It is also fueling our sense that we are, always, somehow, missing out.

We need to allow boredom back in.  Boredom is not a bad thing. And parents need to allow children to feel bored too.

When I was 14 yrs old, I wrote and illustrated a whole 26 page children's book during a long school holiday just for fun! I still have the pages and the story. The drawings are intricate and detailed. The story is well thought out. It is such a wonderful work of fourteen year old art but it would never have happened had I been constantly entertained during the holidays. No. I had time and I filled it with my own creativity.

So let's get bored and let our creative minds create!

One of my writing icons

Here is a link to an amazing talk if you are also a wannabe writer like myself.

Elizabeth Gilbert's 2014 TED Talk.

Watch it now.

The Car Guard

When I go to gym, I usually park in the same area of the parking lot every time if there is a spot. Creature of habit. Also, I like the car guard there.

He is an older man, I'd put him in his fifties or so, but it's hard to tell because his skin is weathered and brown from standing out in the sun and rain. Over the months we've gone from nodding, to smiling to greeting each other. I like him because he told me once to avoid parking under the tree (where I had just parked, for shade) because the birds would mess my car in no time. I also like him because once, when my four year old son slammed his finger in the car boot door by accident, the car guard didn't come running to see or make a fuss. He just stood at his usual respectful distance and let me deal with it.

I don't always have small change on me to give him, because I usually go to gym without my wallet. And in these days of plastic, I don't always carry cash anyway. So I don't always give this guy money, but then on occasion, to make up for it, I will give him a note.

Today was one of those days. I folded the R10 note and let my son give it to the car guard. I could see he was chuffed - shame - maybe it had been a slow day. He asked my son what his name was, and then he said that his name is Mark and then he told me "My grandkid's names are Kyle and Louwrens" and I suddenly stopped and looked properly at this car guard.  He has grandkids!

Of course he does! And yet, even though we greet each other almost daily, I never thought of him as a person with a life, possibly a wife, and grandchildren. I asked him how old his grandkids are, and he said four and two. He said the two year old, Kyle, is the clever one. I asked him if they live nearby, and he said no, they live in PE and that he is hoping to go see them, that he was just waiting for his son to bring him to PE and that his son is a Civil Engineer.

In that moment, I saw Mark, the car guard. And my heart was there too - feeling his longing to just go visit his grandchildren in PE.