The trick is to write it down...

Today I went to McDonald's to write. It seems a little ridiculous to me that I can focus better there than at the library, but such is my life. At the library noise is out of the ordinary, so when people make noise, as they inevitably do, it stands out and distracts me. At McDonald's I expect noise and it blends into the background hum of life and activity. You can take the girl out of Mexico City, but you can't take Mexico City out of the girl, I suppose. Anyhow, when I say that I went there "to write" I refer to a conglomeration of activities that goes beyond just typing words on my computer or scribbling them down in a notebook. I do both, of course, but I also sit and ponder, read books on writing, drink coffee, read good fiction with a critical eye, do occasional research on different ideas, revise previous writing, shift stacks of books around on the table, and other such writerly activities. Today I read part of a chapter in a book called One Year to a Writing Life: Twelve Lessons to Deepen Every Writer's Art and Craft by Susan M. Tiberghien. The first of her twelve lessons is about the importance of journaling in a writer's life. Journaling does a lot for a writer: it establishes the habit of writing often; it records memories and images that would otherwise be forgotten; it develops the depth of the writer's understanding of his own thoughts and feelings; it develops the writer's voice; and it gives the writer a safe place to take risks (3-4). I often underestimate the significance of any journal-type writing when I'm actually writing it. When I return to these writings much later, I find that they take on a completely different tone and personality for me. It's as though I forget that I've written it, and I'm able to see my thoughts for what they are. Tiberghien includes an excerpt from the journal-style book of Burghild Nina Holzer. One of the things Holzer said stood out to me in particular: "Sometimes it seems as if one thing has nothing to do with another thing, but it does. The trick is to write it down. Not to figure it out. To write it down, one vision at a time." I think writers often struggle with the pace of life. I know I do. It all happens so fast, and sometimes you see the art that other people are producing and think that they must know something you don't. You feel like you ought to be able to just look around you and find some grand inspiration out of thin air. Holzer's words were a good reminder to me that a writer's work (or any artist's, really) is slow and patient. You look around you and see the world, and you write down the things you see. Then you go back and read what you wrote, and re-read it, and see new things and write those, read and re-read them. And slowly, the connections begin to come to you. Even though it seems, at first, that one thing has nothing to do with another thing. Slowly, ever so slowly, a thread begins to stretch between them, and then you become sure that it's there. That's the moment that writers long for and strive for, the moment when all the elements click into place and the idea seems whole and complete. It's not a moment that is cheaply bought. A dear and wise friend of mine once told me that "true art is never, ever a cop-out career. It takes discipline, vulnerability, actual creativity, and most of all, a unique kind of courage." I agree. When you're just writing down what you see and experience, "one vision at a time," it can feel a lot like you're shooting in the dark and hoping you'll hit something. With the discipline to keep at it, the vulnerability to invest yourself without a thought to your ego,  and the courage to believe that something worthwhile will come of it, you're well on your way to seeing the connections that will make great art.