Poetry Under Stars

It’s too cold to be outside, but we take blankets out. We can’t resist the stars. After a moment of looking, guessing constellations, Abigail opens up her poets.org and I my Emily Dickinson. Without explanation, we take turns reading. Abigail reads with her gusto, words shooting from her mouth like they’re trying to escape to the stars. I read hesitantly, not belonging to this world of poetry Abigail loves. But we are friends, and tonight is one night that will be perfect as we huddle on a damp blanket, reading words I can’t understand, but words that light up her soul – I can see it in her eyes. This is our friendship: watching Abigail become enlightened at the touch of anything beautiful while I look on, wishing I could understand and feel and become. Wishing I could produce something as beautiful as her soul.

Perfectionism is the Villain

On the second day of creative writing class, sitting in a small, dim classroom on the outskirts of BYU, we were asked to give our name and reason for taking the class.

I gave my answer: “My name is Savannah and I’m taking this class because I have a complicated relationship with fiction writing.”

My professor laughed. “So you’re taking this class as a punishment for yourself.”

That is correct.

I love writing. But I also hate it. I believe if you ask any writer, they will say something similar. In a conversation with a creative writing graduate student a week ago, she highlighted the true binary in writing: it is work and it is play. But mostly work.

As a result of my creative writing class and involvement with BYU’s literary magazine Inscape, I’m forced to confront how I feel about writing. Do I really like it? Do I have potential to grow? Do I have the patience to grow? My saving grace in answering these questions was found in a book (as answers often are).

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. Perfectionism is the true villain.

In her (entire!) chapter about the evils of perfectionism, Anne Lamott makes a very striking point. “Perfectionism will ruin your writing, blocking inventiveness and playfulness and life force.” The matter of whether we want to write or not is irrelevant if we let perfectionism win.

The fact that I am a perfectionist in writing was made strikingly clear to me. After every paragraph, I rewrite like crazy, sometimes spending a half hour on a paragraph I’m going to delete later. Where is the logic in that? Maybe the reason for my complicated relationship with fiction writing is my perfectionism. It halts my exploration, expression, and growth as a writer.

So DOWN with perfectionism! The growth of myself as a fiction writer is much more important.

M-I-A

I want to apologize for being missing in action so much the past couple months! Life hit a big turn from my summer chilling to the start of my sophomore year at Brigham Young University and working in the BYU English Department. However, these are no excuses because writers write no matter what is going on in their lives – it is simply how we live. 

That being said, my writing may have dulled the past couple months, but my brain has not. I’ve been thinking a lot about the direction of this blog. I threw a few ideas around with my husband – about a book blog, a photography blog, a writing blog, and even a flower blog. But I couldn’t pick just one. I don’t think I’m ready to confine my writing into one subject. And so, my blog will stay Savannah’s Secretaire for now.

Writing is like that, I think. We have different moods and styles as our lives take different turns. Being a writer means staying flexible, and that’s not always easy when you are in college, have kids, or working overtime. However, if writing is important to you, you make time for it. That’s just the way life works. It’s important to have flexibility in changing your writing style, making time for it, and sometimes, you just have to force yourself to like it.

I’m trying to come back, folks. One blog post at a time, and open to suggestions.

My Secretaire

Novels. Short Stories. Articles. Essays. Writing.

What a journey it is to write.  A lovely journey.  For me, it began with a story about a dog.  In the years long ago, I see myself as a redheaded child, writing furiously at a small, chipped, white table in my room, toes rubbing anxiously over the green cement floor.  I see excitement in my eyes as I finish my first short story: “The Lost Dog.”  Written and illustrated by Savannah.  I have come a long way from writing at that little chipped table.  This blog is a continuation of my writing journey.    Welcome to Savannah’s Secretaire.

Those who have created a blog know the struggle of finding a suitable name.  It is the most important part of a blog.  Within that little title is how you define and present yourself.  I have no problem in admitting that it took me close to two hours of severe brainstorming to come up with a title.  It started with finding a single word: secretaire.

                                         

secretaire (sɛkrɪˈtɛ) noun a small writing desk; an escritoire.  [from French secrétaire]

It was a perfect word from the start.  It even had a nice alliteration with my name.  I love the imagery of a small writing desk.  I imagine myself sitting at a dark, polished desk in a spacious room filled with books and large windows.  There would be a bowl of Oreo cookies and a leather bound notebook with my favorite pen.  The windows would be cracked just a bit to let in a cool breeze and I would hear the sounds of trees rubbing their branches together.  And I would be writing.  What a wonderfully beautiful image secretaire creates.

This blog is my writing desk.  It is a place of thoughts, feelings, experiences, and stories.  I hope you enjoy this writing journey with me!