Trains of thought: Where do we land when the destination is unclear?

The sparks from a writing session: one image, one quote 

I shared the piece below in a writing group, having written it specifically to be read aloud; the tone and cadence is conversational, and its rhythm fits that of the summer months...meandering, musing, contemplative. Its origin is in the two sparks shown above — an Edward Hopper painting and a quote by Maya Angelou. 

As I began the writing process, I didn't know what to write and then, once I started, I didn't know where I was going, but I did, eventually, arrive at a point that surprised, and also pleased, me. So often, this is how writing (and life**) goes. 

Written early morning Saturday / Shared Sunday afternoon

My train of thought

My train of thought this week has been like a train I took from Grenoble, France to Florence, Italy back in April 1978: It had a departure point and a destination and it left on time, but, somehow, it arrived late without ever encountering anything on the tracks along the way to justify that lateness.

Although, actually, now that I think about it, my train of thought has not been like that at all. While I had the starting point (two good sparks), I had no rails running straight and true in front of me to guide me, to get me to where I wanted to go. Yet I knew where I wanted to arrive: I wanted to have a piece worthy of sharing. 

How would I get there?

All this week I have been thinking and trying and trying and not getting much down. Though I did invent a character for one paragraph; here she is, inspired by the image spark —

Geraldine Caldecott had been raised by her mother to take no guff — from anyone. She had been raised to stand up for herself and to give as good as she got. On that Thursday in March of 1948, she had done precisely that. Which is how she found herself alone in a dismal train compartment heading to the wilds of Scotland with only the clothes she wore and the handbag her Great-Aunt Agatha had given her when she turned 18.

A promising beginning, maybe, maybe not, but Geraldine is made up, fiction, and I know that fiction is not for me. I think I can write it, but I wonder at the point of it for me as a writer. Oh, as a reader, I love it when fiction opens the world in a way that is new to me via characters who are interesting to me. However, as a writer, it does not interest me.

On one of the many digressions I took this week, I landed on three recommendations for books about writing, only one of which took me past page one: That one said, Write a book that your reader needs, that might just change their life. Now that’s a tall order: to change a life. But, actually, that is what I want to do with my writing: cause a change within my reader. Not huge, not life-changing, necessarily, but to cause a spark within the reader that ignites something larger than the words I have put together on the page or screen — now, that is something I aspire to.

So, there you have it. This week’s sparks have brought me here, to this point. And while this piece is hardly shining bright with style or wit, its meandering path to creation is related to this week’s sparks and it holds a lasting lesson: How we respond to unexpected things we encounter on our journey(s) reflects our character and our ethic; and, if we apply our imagination and other skills to what lands in our path we may find ourselves arriving at unexpectedly interesting and rewarding destinations — even if they are down a side road we had not originally included in our travel plans.

Like that train I took from Grenoble to Florence, my starting point for this piece was known, my destination planned. And I got there, though not in the way I had presumed I would. I digressed, I followed my own path of side-road discovery and, eventually, I arrived at the place I intended: I produced a piece I am willing to share. A piece that reminds me that words matter and those that maybe matter most for a writer are the ones we put on the page in the quest to tell a story — a story (made up or true) that may, to begin with, have only a vague destination, even if the departure point is clear. 

One thing is for absolute sure: We will never arrive at our destination unless we take that step onto the train and travel with it to see where this particular journey will take us. 


** Looking back over my working life, it seems as if I had a master plan: earn a bachelor degree majoring in literary translation (French to English), then earn a bachelor degree in journalism, then build a career in corporate communication, then earn an MA in communication, then transition to college teaching of communication. That's what happened over 40+ years, but it was iterative — I continued to hop from one stepping stone to another as they appeared in front of me, and eventually I landed where I am today: a writer and community educator. It continues to be a fulfilling and rewarding journey. All begun with that first step into a French lit class way back in 1978!


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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Comments

  1. I like this meandering, musing piece, Amanda, as well as your character, Geraldine Caldecott. She makes me think of your mother - at least, what I have gleaned about your mum from her own writing. I think that if you DID wish to write fiction, you would be channeling a lot of real people and events.

    As to books on writing: were you paraphrasing from Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird"? I love that book, and thought I recognized that morsel of wisdom!

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  2. There is a parallel to art, how I start is rarely how I finish, although, often, I don't even have a clear starting point. I do want to know what happened to Geraldine Caldecott? That is an intriguing beginning.
    We'll see how dealing with unexpected things in the next week will show grace and character or panic.

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  3. This is why writing is an art form not a craft. Yes there are rules, but the writer can change the rules. Yes there are guides... but no apprentice program that leads to a Master craftsman. Really does writing come from the head or from the heart? Only the artist knows (and maybe their muse). See coach? You continue to inspire me.

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  4. Amanda, your character opening demands more story, the intrigue has been designed and certainly says much more to come. I like the use of 'train of thought' and 'sparks'. Thank you!

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