Ca3(PO4)2: The journey begins

June 2010 ~ I want to write a narrative, poetic sequence about the trials of Humankind. It’s a big subject but as I believe the principal elements may be whittled down to a few simple milestones ~ CONCEPTION, resonance, BIRTH, acceptance, GROWTH, knowledge, MATURITY, experience and so on, it will not be too onerous and therefore too boring to create. I don’t know much about how the publication will look except that the language will be sparse, to the bone and there will be illustrations which may or may not describe the meaning. It’s more likely the illustrations will add a further dimension.  So the outcome remains morphic.

I’m always excited at the beginning of a journey especially when I have absolutely no idea where it will end, let alone where it’s to start.  On this occasion, all I know for certain is that I must be an itinerant harvester, a hunter-gatherer of snippets, a recorder of gobs of everyday comings and goings and then, at some point in the future, I will reflect upon how the thoughts and phrasing might fit together coherently.

I have to start it somewhere, so I’ve wheeled out the motorbike and will ride it slowly along the coast road from Lynton to Porlock beach.

“Me I’m just a lawnmower, you can tell by the way I walk”  Genesis

© Rivenrod 2011

9 thoughts on “Ca3(PO4)2: The journey begins

  1. Pingback: Impulsive Writing (30) | CiderPress

  2. RR ~ I’ve read backwards…you see, the problem with writing/blogs/working FT/writing/breathing/thinking etc etc… is it all is a process of time and jumbled chaos, or at least, how I live it. Your postings, starting from todays, intrigued immediate with its title. I knew it was a chemical formulation, but which one? Alas, the first, for me the last, told and inspired.

    All my poetry is generally written in one fell swoop. I either tap it out on my phone while walking or (now on my bike which sits on a trainer); jots on New Yorker mags that get used more as scratch paper than reading material; and on google docs which then gets transfered to blog. I don’t do a lot of editing on many pieces. The ones you generally enjoy are very much first go, off cuff, pulled from the marrow.

    Not certain if this helps, or what your looking for, but I dig this writing you’ve been posting.

    I guess what I ask is, do you wish a poet to spell out what was on the mind when writing, ie. what it is all about. Must say, this could be dangerous for sometimes I remain a bit vague to protect the innocent. (as in the last one written may be read by the person for whom i write about)

    My last poem was actually interpreted in interesting avenues by readers, but in truth, it was inspired by someone whom I believe is living a lie and is more girl than guy. The reason they are not able to find “a destiny” (in my opinion) is because they’ve yet to start living…if that makes sense. Granted, there are always pieces of me in my writes, but more symbolic or philosophical, you know?

    Bottom line, if I feel a poem needs a bit of explanation, I write crazy run-on hashtags for those that bother to look.

    A novella, I’ve written you, sorry. In the head a bit tonight. Not good, I saw a writing prompt in blogland about emotions and poetry. Gee…u think I should dip my pen?

    cheers ~
    angela

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    • Wow! Thanks Angela.

      You’re right I do like your gutsy, raw pieces. I connect with them more readily I guess.

      What I’m trying to do by asking these questions is, by eavesdropping on everyone else, come to a closer understanding of why I write, how my tales begin, mature and live beyond conception.

      You see, I think, whatever is written and shared with the world by anyone of the people I follow, is important. It has its place and time and I wouldn’t be interested in them if a chord had not been struck.

      For years I’ve danced around the edges of the literary world. It’s true I have always painted, created images for the great and good and even sold pictures to the blind for no other reason than I could. But my narratives, my tales, have always remained secret. The reason being, I had no idea where they came from or how they manifested themselves. They existed, but why and how. Like children they flocked, beamed, beckoned and took form. Growing outside their early promise and becoming entities in their own right. But, it was important I understood and until I did they would remain hidden.

      A significant part of that journey is, I believe, an understanding of how other writers, those who (please forgive me) have not been tainted by the demands and constraints of commercialism, come to their own inspirations. How they unpack and unfold an idea. How they work at the thing they love. Quite selfishly, I need to know to put my own work into some perspective. To some it’s not important but to me it is.

      You’re intriguing. You write well and I read what you write with anticipation. I also understand much more about you than say Duffy or Plath or Hughes because we have a personal relationship. That in itself is interesting, don’t you think – because we have interaction on a personal level it leads to a greater understanding of your work. They might well be published but that doesn’t make any one of them a better writer than you. That isn’t the point; writing isn’t and should never be a contest. It’s more about who touches me and where and when and my resonance with the incantation. How the words tug me and the places you take me with your prose. And somewhere along the line, how you got to where you are going is an important part of the enjoyment of the words.

      When I’m writing I don’t read any books, just snippets of blogs and poetry. Some of the words find their way into my narrative, many more don’t of course. The point is I don’t read the so called Greats, I read the words of people who write because they need to express themselves and feel a kinship with others.

      There we are. Thanks for sharing your inspiration (is that what it is?).

      RR

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  3. I find that…

    Poems (of mine)
    usually rhyme
    if there’s time.

    But probably not
    if they’re thought
    then soon forgot.

    As for meaning,
    Its like dreaming:

    You like to feel
    you’re at the wheel,
    and turning it for real;
    deciding what’s right
    and what’s not.

    But when you awake
    you better write quick
    before meaning fades
    and all those words
    so deeply thought
    so creatively wrought
    rush back to amend
    a void in the pot
    where rainbows end
    and dreams begin…

    again.

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  4. Dear RR, I would like there to be an air of poetry in whatever I write. My biggest fear comes in those times when I can’t see anything in what I’ve written that would give that smallest benefit to anyone who reads it. My biggest headaches and guilt come when I go ahead and ‘publish’ it anyway when it doesn’t even sing to me.

    When I scribble things down, there’s no order I can come back to after the snippet or idea is put into play in a specific work. I’ve begun to worry that using the computer helps me do away with ‘complete’ drafts and so obscures my process and keeps me from truly understanding what I’m doing. But then my ‘mistakes’ upset me and I don’t much want to see them again anyway. I’m very conflicted about recording my steps even though I do want to see mistakes as steps. I intellectually believe that’s what they are, but my internal voice, which isn’t my own you know, keeps saying that I’m stupid and wrong most of the time.

    When I’m writing something that feels very poetic, like the 100 word stories, the germ of the idea just falls out of the atmosphere onto my head. Then what I do feels mechanical, except not in a bad way. It feels like when I’m crocheting and ripping out stitches and doing a bit over again until I like how the fabric looks. The difference is that I’ve learned how to write out a crochet pattern but I can’t quite explain everything I do while finding the words to express a thought, feeling, sight, sound, whatever. It’s very visual for me even though I want the words to sound right when they are heard. I’m going after what I see and hope the reader sees, while I also want there to be music in it.

    And if I cry while composing something, I know something about it is right and I don’t stop until I’m done. With 100 words (which I like because I seem to crave limits for comfort’s sake–like a toddler) I can feel I’m done in as little as 45 minutes.

    I feel like I’ve gone on too long. Is this the kind of process you meant? Or do you only mean information about specific pieces? And thanks for asking about our experiences and getting me to think about mine.

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    • There’s a shyness in all you do Re but there’s also music and hope. You speak of mistakes when you should, probably, say learn. And refer to an internal voice that isn’t your own I have one, but it’s my friend and guide as well as my sparring partner.

      More than anything, it’s a matter of how you see yourself and your work.

      Graham Greene often advised writers to never listen to critics and remember the first draft is always crap. It seems to me, and I may be wrong, that you are your most critical critic. That’s fine, but don’t be too harsh.

      What I have come to realise is that the journey to creating a piece of original art is as important as arriving at the finished piece. Despite all the hype, writing is art.

      Peace be with you Re.

      RRxx

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  5. I have 16 notebooks, which are totally disorganised and full of snippets in no particular order. I sense this post may have been inspired by last night’s discussion & I knew at the time I could never share my notes. Random is as random does will have to be my motto….

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    • Disorganised or not, the trick is to keep notebooks and use them honestly. That’s my problem, I write in mine as if speaking with someone else. Always neat…and sometimes I don’t say what I want or mean…bah! It’s tough being me.

      Keep my seat warm Suzie and don’t let the group get too complacent. That’s one of the failings of intelligent people, they need to be stretched and challenged. It’s all too easy for them to slip into laziness. We won’t have it, do you hear!

      RRxx

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