The central impression of this process, and one that I would do well to remember, is that I am learning.
I think I found the following either on/in Rico’s book, Writing the Natural Way, or on her website, but I didn’t record its exact location.
“Human beings are capable of processing the world in two distinct ways: Named Sign and Design mind by Gabriele Rico, the Sign mind (left hemisphere) thinks linearly,
Clustering larger stories seems to require that you cluster in chunks. Then you cluster each chunk. So, something like chapters, sections, scenes, and on down to clothes and feelings.
Incidentally, writing from the hip and clustering both seem to require the Design mind—the exploration of new territory, and the hidden desire to make new connections. The only thing I question is the disconnectedness sometimes of how new scenes will come out. For instance,
I need to nuance my understanding of the purpose of clustering. We learned it for random vignettes, but this is not its only usage. This was merely a tool to learn the process and to practice it.
Because the right brain does not order or sequence or define, because it seeks to explore, to make new connections—to join numerous sprigs into some unknown end, it seems to work best without any agenda in place—any known end. Else, you are sequencing, defining, ordering things to fit an agenda,
Learning to art
Is like tending a thistled field.
Until you plow, it chokes its fruit.
But thorns scratch
And catch
I posted this vignette previously, but after receiving some critiques, I reworked it.
“You scare me,” a previous draft began. But the ghoul of perfection cornered me, and in desperation my task took way too long, with way too much censure. Revealing my unedited self, as opposed to the comfort of studied abstraction, makes my face warm and my hands shake. So the deceitful strength of rotting fingers keeps you and me apart. But like the steps of my pursuer’s persistence, only by means of repeated encounters can our romance succeed.
Remove the wide “w,” and you have either “rite,” like a fraternity’s yearly hazing, or “rote,” as in high school homework. Indeed, we have witnessed a coup d’état. Western schools have usurped Frost and Crane, profiting from their imprisonment and flogging their children into submission. They give us pickaxes instead of pens and imprison us in a mine of expedience and efficiency. We need a headlamp to lead us in sojourn, so that upon surfacing we might inhale crisp air. Perhaps then we can widen ourselves and even the world, itself.
Too much?
“You scare me.” I began this way in a previous draft, but my need for perfection compelled me to take way too long and to have way too much censure. Candidly revealing my unedited self and even emotion, as opposed to concealing me with studied abstraction, scares me. A lot. But only by means of numerous dates can this romance succeed.