What the Rain Brings
I’ll admit it: I’ve been less prolific over the summer than I would have liked. That’s not to say that I wasn’t productive – I did some revising, some research, some reading, a scribble here and there – but I wasn’t writing. There were no long, feverish days of just writing, of watching the words pour out and gather on the page. Characters walked around in my head, but did not manifest themselves on the page. Words felt clumsy. The pen in my hand felt strange, weighted, plagued by my inactivity.
And then today it rained.
What is it about the rain? Just the sound of it – the sight of it from my two office windows, the wet street, the gloss – made an ache to write creep through me. Lines for poems appeared like gifts. The first actions of a character – walking down a wet (yes, wet) road – became tangible and vivid. All this made me consider the idea of inspiration. I’ve been asked before about my writing schedule: am I one of those who writes at the same time every day? Do I write whether or not I particularly feel like it? Am I disciplined?
The answer to all of these? No. A realization today. A resounding no.
I write when that elusive muse appears, and this could be anywhere, at any time. Sometimes it happens when I’m lecturing – a lightbulb moment of some sort, when the necessary act of breaking down literary aspects (character, plot, style) to a class also illuminates something in me. Other times it’s when I’m in my office, on my couch, in bed. It could happen anywhere. But there’s no real schedule for me. Certainly I am always thinking about writing, composing in my head, but I am not specific in when I commit these thoughts and words and dream-like fragments to the page.
Perhaps it would be better if I was a disciplined, scheduled sort of writer. If I knew that, say, from 10-1 every day, I would write. But that’s not how it works – or has ever worked – for me. So I wait. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not. I wait for that phrase to catch me, that image to move me, that character to whisper to me.
Or maybe I am just waiting for the rain.