This is National Novel Writing Month.

I like to put in a plug for it every year, but at over 90,000 participants (it started in 1999 with around 25 people), maybe that’s the last thing they need. That, at least, is how I’m justifying not mentioning it until past the middle of the month.

If you’re interested, you can still sign up but you might consider just lurking around the highly entertaining forums to get your feet wet before jumping in next year. On the other hand, if you need inspiration and a fast approaching deadline, go for it!

In case you don’t know, the idea is to write 50,000 words of a brand new novel in the month of November.

My first year was 2002 which makes this—doing fast math—my sixth nano year. I have considered not doing it some years, but I think I’m past that. This year even with absolutely no time to plan, there was no question that I’d be back, doing my very best to come up with another story worthy of at least 30 days of my life.

I love it because doing NaNoWriMo has taught me, more than any other class or teacher or mentor ever did, how to write a novel. It taught me how to write through the dry periods, the uninspired days, the drivel that sometimes comes out when we sit down to make up a story. It showed me the vast amount of words you have to put down before finding the right ones in the right order. It not only taught me, but also it illustrated for me, the reasons behind turning off your internal censor and suppressing at every opportunity the doubts that are always there.

A daily word count goal (sometimes even an hourly one!) goes a very long way indeed toward overcoming the mechanical (I don’t have any good ideas), emotional (I am not good enough) and practical (no time!) reasons most people never write a novel.

If writing a novel isn’t something you aspire to here’s another option. This year I’ve joined a very active social networking group called NaBloPoMo that promotes blogging everyday in the month of November (reason No. 2 why this little site o’ mine has received less attention from me than usual). I’ve been blogging most days about my NaNoWriMo writing process, as I’ve been going through it, as well as posting a few tips along the way. You can see these posts in the NaNoWriMo category on my blog. As well, I’m going to be posting the Graphic Reminders I’ve done, here on The PCQ.

I haven’t been totally neglecting The PCQ, however. There’s work-in-progress to have a new social networking branch of The PCQ. This will be a place where you can easily post and share your own works of art or writing, start your own discussions and groups on whatever kind of creativity you’re into, and decorate your own profile page with whatever you like! Hopefully an email will be going out to all registered members soon, inviting you to see it (but I have to get through November first!). Either way, look for a link to it on The PCQ home page and please do click over and see what it’s all about.

[-journaling, c-mindfulness-]

Next time you are writing in your journal, switch the pen to your other hand and write.

I know. I know. You can’t write with your other hand. Never mind. Go on and do it anyway.

Writing with our non-dominant hand can have interesting results because it confuses our brain. Part of that protest you just put up about not wanting to write with the wrong hand was your brain’s way of keeping things predictable. That’s okay. That’s its job. Let’s face it: we function because our brains are in charge. Our brains do a phenomenal job of keeping the world understandable and keeping our bodies and behaviours in sync with that world. But the parts of our brain that are so effective at everyday life, may not be the parts that give us the best results when it comes to pure creativity.

Since creativity may be useless, nonsensical, playful, wordless, metaphorical, musical, messy, and so on, the practical brain that serves us so well, needs a little nudge to get out of the way while we create. Try writing with your ‘wrong’ hand to make this happen.

Why does this work? Our non-dominant hand is linked to the non-dominant hemisphere of our brain. Some studies indicate that one hemisphere is active when using the dominant hand but both hemispheres are activated when the non-dominant hand is used. Either way, many people find that they ‘think differently’ or that surprising things get written down when using the non-dominant hand.

I should caution you that therapists having used this technique have found that some people can access primitive and raw emotions, so I am not suggesting here that this be used as therapy. If you are interested in that, please be sure that you’re working with a trained professional first.

The use of this technique here is suggested as a warm-up to further creative activity. It’s suggested as a way to circumvent the linear part of our brain and get into the wordless, metaphorical, visual part.

There are other ways that one can use this technique. If you have an everyday situation that needs problem-solving, try writing about it with your non-dominant hand. See if you can come up with a more ‘creative’ solution than you’ve considered previously.

Another possibility is to use it when you want to remember or learn something new. I have a friend who wants to improve her vocabulary. While she’s having her coffee each morning she copies words from the dictionary using her ‘wrong’ hand. She swears that her memory for the words is more reliable now. She even reports beating her husband in SCRABBLE for the first time after doing this for a few weeks. Now that’s worth something! Remember…both sides of the brain being are being activated. She just might have something here.

Try it. Politely and gently—using bad handwriting—ask your everyday brain to step aside for awhile while creativity and new ways of thinking are explored.

See why R-mindfulness has changed to C-mindfulness here at The PCQ. Click on C-mindfulness in our topics to read about other ways of accessing your C-mind.

[-process, essay-]

by Nancy S.M. Waldman

As we create, we use up media, materials, tools, ideas, time, and our own creative energy. Working from abundance means having a well of resources—more than we need—to create what we want.

My son used this expression in a conversation about the new songs he had just recorded. I mentioned how much the phrase resonated with me and he said that he had heard it from a professor who used it in terms of writing. In both instances, they were talking about accumulating, creating, way more than is needed for a project and then winnowing it down later to a more refined level.

Not everyone creates this way. I have a friend who writes sparsely and then fleshes out the story after she has the skeleton of it constructed. I’m the opposite. I overwrite and then must be brutal with myself about taking out everything that isn’t necessary.

However, the crucial aspect of abundance isn’t the number of words we write or the collection of materials on our worktables or the amount of paint we have at our disposal. It’s not even about time.

Time is necessary and without it we can’t create. But, there are people with loads of time who don’t use it to record music, make art or write novels. So having the time will only work for us if we have an abundance of what will motivate us to work, to play, to innovate.

Working from abundance is more about a certain attitude. This attitude incorporates elements of openness, generosity, fearlessness, confidence. At times, whimsy and audacity. It involves letting go of negatives, so there can be no sparsity of spirit. It’s about not worrying that we will use up all our good ideas if we throw everything we’ve got at a project. It’s about having faith that creativity is a renewable and sustainable resource.

There’s also energy to consider. Creative energy doesn’t have to be about being upbeat and feeling energetic. Many depressed people, who didn’t have the energy to bathe, have created masterpieces. It’s about using what we have to put into the process of creating.

While it’s true there are those instances when the more we create, the more energized we feel, it does have a limit. We have to always be aware of when we begin to feel like a worn-out battery. At that point, the idea is to get away from what is depleting us and re-charge ourselves. Working from an abundance of creative spirit will always result in a more effective creation.

And perhaps, that’s all we need to remember about abundance. If we can accumulate a deep pool of the attitude of abundance, then we will have what we need to create what we want.

[-quick tip, practice-]

Keep a tablet and a pen or pencil on your bedside table at all times!

DREAMS
If you wake with a dream still in reach, jot it down immediately. If you want to fall back to sleep, don’t worry about transcribing the full dream. If you write the most important words and images you’re likely to remember the connecting links later.

SOLUTIONS
Those transitional times just before falling asleep or waking—especially from a nap—are rich times for problem-solving and inspirational ideas. Having paper and pencil nearby will allow you to capture these gems that might otherwise disappear from your mind as the world crowds in.

SKETCHES
The tablet isn’t just for words. If you’re like me, you’ll sometimes *see* images that need to be painted or drawn. Make quick sketches before they too are lost to time.

[-writing, exercise-]

Writing takes activity. You have to write the words down on the page. Everyone knows that. But what’s going on inside as you make that effort to put a story together? Think about the issue of control and how it does or doesn’t work for you. We tend to think of energy, activity, the doing part of it as the most important. But consider another viewpoint. Here’s what Brenda Ueland says about it:

Willing is doing something you know already, something you have been told by somebody else; there is no new imaginative understanding in it. And presently your soul gets frightfully sterile and dry because you are so quick, snappy and efficient about doing one thing after another that you have not time for your own ideas to come in and develop and gently shine.

In this spirit, here’s a daydreaming exercise to foster the idea of letting go so that you can dream something up rather than just jotting something down.

Sit in front of your computer. Look at the keyboard for a few moments. Put your fingers on the keys and type a sentence. Type ANYTHING.
For example:

your thoughts:
• I am typing a sentence.
• This is a stupid exercise.
• I hate this.
• What am I doing this for?

whatever comes into your head, no matter how weird:

• Dogs with feathers would create nests in their sleep.
• Wallpaper hides cracks and peels when it’s old.
• My teeth might crumble before I die.

the most random nonsense you can come up with:
• Jumbled crossover blinks always allay floods.
• Accessing liverwurst can be the answer to pink socks.
• Everyone jousts because the ghostly phone didn’t ring.

Now here’s the hard part. As soon as you’ve put the period on your sentence, delete it.

As fast as you can, type something else.

Delete that.

Keep doing it for at least ten minutes, more if you can tolerate it.

Now begin your writing for the day.

This exercise does three important things:

1. It loosens your mind by making flighty associations and spurring imaginative juxtapositions on the page
2. It clears the mind of the top layer of dry, tired dirt so that the underlying fertile soil is available to you
3. It provides practice in letting go of words.
   This is a valuable lesson for a writer because we all tend to love what comes out of us. Our words are our babies and we don’t like to make them disappear once they are on the paper. But we have to know how as well as when to delete. This will help.

[-exercise, un-blocker-]

by Nancy Waldman

Do you feel creative but still have difficulty creating?
Is something holding you back but you’re not quite sure what or why?
Are you feeling blocked?
Do you feel that your output is a trickle instead of a flood?

Here is a exercise designed to explore these kinds of problems in a new way.

In Marks Have Meaning, I made the point that small, quick, abstract marks can and do communicate emotions and concepts. This same concept can be used as an effective tool for problem solving.

The idea for and way of using marks as problem solving devices came to me from Betty Edwards, Drawing on the Artist Within, which I highly recommend.

Get several pieces of paper and a pencil with an eraser.

Sit down for a moment and think about your life. Choose an issue that is a challenge or an on-going problem, something that you don’t really have a handle on. It does not have to be a creative problem but if one of those questions at the top of this article is bothering you, it might be a good place to start.

Once you’ve decided on a problem, don’t think about it. Begin to draw.

Ms. Edwards suggest that you first draw a boundary on your paper. She calls this a format for the problem. It does not have to be a rectangle or square. Make it any size or shape that seems right.

Then begin to draw the problem. This drawing should take focus as a photograph developing before your eyes. Be in the mind of the issue you’ve chosen but don’t control this drawing with words. Let it come. The main thing to remember is that it should not include any representational or symbolic icons or figures. No hearts, or words, or lightning bolts or pictures of any kind. Just lines and abstract imagery.

Draw for as long as it takes. Remember, you are letting another part of your brain work for you. You are letting the r-mind communicate in the way it can. Enjoy the feeling of being wordless.

If one drawing doesn’t seem enough, do another. Don’t forget to ‘format’ it first, even if you choose to let the edges of the page be the boundary line.

Once the drawing or drawings are done, take a moment to assess how you feel. Are you refreshed? Frustrated? Feeling lighter? Or do you feel silly? Whatever it is, jot the word(s) on the back of the drawing.

Then think about what the drawing is telling you about your problem. Now is the time to try and put it into words. Say out loud what you see, how it makes you feel, what you observe about what you’ve drawn. It’s a similar process to recounting a dream. Often in retelling a dream, there is a process of identifying, of focussing. We might say, “There was a cat in the corner and that cat was—spooky…no, not really spooky, that’s too strong a word. More eerie. That cat gave me an eerie feeling that was like…well, surprisingly it reminds me of Great-grannie Gertrude!” And so on.

Turn your drawing over and on the back write the words that your r-mind has communicated to you. Ms. Edwards suggests that you “memorize” the drawing and the words. The idea is to hold both in your mind at once. Don’t let the words take over because the drawing may have more information in it than you can see right away. Before leaving this exercise, close your eyes and try to picture the drawing you did. Is it memorized? Then think about the words and hold them both in your mind at one time. It isn’t that hard, since you created both. They came from you and therefore are not foreign. The process has simply put them into your awareness in a new way.

Here’s a drawing I did years ago. I was trying to figure out why I couldn’t sustain creative efforts to completion.

In the same way that my dream would have significance to me, but would not to you, this drawing will mean nothing to you. Even if I point out the barriers and the difference between one side of the drawing and the other, it’s not your mind, your problem or your experience and therefore, not significant. However, what you should know is that I gained multiple insights from this and similar drawings. Doing these drawings over the years helped me deal with situations in my life with a broader understanding and awareness of them. In the same way, if you go through the process with openness, your drawings will have deeper significance because they came out of you.

Give it a try and see what happens in your life. For those of you who try it, share your experience with our readers by making a comment below.

[-writing, technique-]

by Nancy Waldman

“…the successful use of metaphor is a matter of perceiving similarities.” ~ Poetics, Aristotle

Metaphors are magic. The right metaphor in the right place transforms a felt hat into a black rabbit, a silk scarf into a flower, solid reality into illusion. In magic, however, tricks can be spoiled if the magician allows the viewer to see the slight of hand being used.

The metaphor needs skillful handling if your reader isn’t going to notice you pulling it from your sleeve.

Metaphor is a type of analogy, a figure of speech, but it is also a common way of thinking that starts early in life; our brains, it seems, are made to use symbols of one thing standing in as another. Perhaps it arises out of human beings need to communicate even before vocabulary has sufficiently developed. For instance, a young toddler might say I want that “sock for my hand” to mean “mitten” if that word isn’t yet in her vocabulary.

As well, metaphors are commonly used to express what otherwise feels inexpressible—love, spirituality, passion, any strong emotion. In response to a tragedy people often use metaphors of hell, nightmares, storms, war (assuming the tragedy isn’t a war). When they are uplifted from the tragedy by kindness or compassion they speak of wombs, bridges, home, cradles. It is a natural way of thinking and expressing what “normal” speech doesn’t adequately cover.

Language is figurative because our brains have the capacity, the tendency, to make disparate connections. Using metaphor in creative writing is an essential part of communicating in a way that is specific, unique. A well-placed metaphor can layer levels of meaning, can bring characters to life, can resonate with the reader so fully that they never forget the connection you’ve made for them.

In the simplest form, metaphors state that one thing is another, as in Shakespeare’s, All the world’s a stage or Juliet is the sun.

Similes are often confused with metaphors. The difference is that in a simile we say that something is like something else whereas in a metaphor that thing IS something else. Here are two sentences that use figures of speech based on birds. Can you tell which is the metaphor and which is the simile?

Carl strutted around the room like a peacock.
Carl preened his feathers.
In the first—a simile—he is like a bird, in the second—a metaphor—he becomes the bird.

There are many examples that are said to be “dead metaphors” in terms of creative writing because they are so common that we don’t even notice them as being metaphorical. They are the magic equivalent of taking a coin from behind someone’s ear. We’ve all seen it; it’s no longer interesting and certainly not magical.

Everyday items:

the leg of the chair, the cradle of his arms, being on time is the default setting

Emotional expressions:

I hit the roof! I saw red. I fell in love.

Nature:

mother earth, the storm’s rage, the caress of the sun

It is instructive however, to look at these everyday metaphors because they show that metaphors do not have to follow the A is B formula. Metaphorical connections can be made not only with nouns but also with verbs, adverbs, adjectives and even prepositions. Also, the metaphor can be as simple as expressing a single similarity or as complex as the overarching concept that provides the direction and philosophy of an entire piece of writing.

Often the most effective metaphors are those in which the two things being compared are dissimilar in most respects. The skill comes from finding that one attribute that is so similar, that—as a writer—you can say: this is that, and mean it. The writer must not only believe it, but also be relatively certain that the reader will be able to pinpoint that one aspect of the two things are perfectly attuned. Just as a magician must set the audience up for an illusion, the writer must prepare an illusion so the reader naturally understands and believes.

If I say that Carl is a peanut butter cookie, I’d better have let the reader know ahead of time or soon, what characteristic of Carl I’m referring to. Crusty around the edges? Full of delicious goodness? Chunky? Or perhaps, having fork marks on his face? Your reader needs to know what you mean or your metaphor won’t serve your story.

If I say that “Carl swam through the room.” the reader might think “swimmer “or he might think “fish.” If you want to have the reader think “fish” you need to make it more specific and since there are all kinds of fish, why not make it very specific?

“Grey and sleek, Carl sliced through all the smaller fish in the room, beady eyes locked onto his prey.”—we are pretty darned sure that he’s a shark and he’s about to attack (probably a metaphorical attack). “Shark” has many associations. The writer needs to make certain that those won’t conflict with other things we know about Carl.

In this instance, “Carl darted in and out of the corners of the room, camouflaging himself behind the bright anemones and starfish.”—we get a very different picture of this character.

Remember, you are carefully, skillfully teasing out the similar in the dissimilar. Your metaphor must match what you are most trying to illustrate in that character, situation, or theme.

Bringing vividness to your writing is one of the greatest benefits of using effective metaphors. Suppose you’re telling a story about a man who has had a tense, terrible day and has an increasing number of reasons to believe that he might be in danger. The suspense has built to a high pitch. He’s trying to calm himself down but suddenly, as he’s preparing his supper in what he presumes to be an otherwise empty house, someone taps him on the shoulder.

You could say, “Carl jumped in the air.” This may be literal, but it’s dull and doesn’t express the depth of shock and fear that you want Carl to be feeling.

You could say, “Carl jumped out of his skin,” but that’s a cliched metaphor. Everyone will know what you mean, but it’s overused; it has no power.

How about using a fresh metaphor and one that matches the scene?
“Carl was a drop of water splashed on a hot skillet.”

In this, we see Carl jump, rather than being told about it. This is one of the wonderful aspects of using metaphors creatively. With few words, you can show the character, or the action. Your material comes alive.

What’s happening with the following two sentences?

“Carl wanted her to notice him, so he stealthily entered into the conversation and said exactly what he needed to in order to get her attention.”

“Carl waded into the conversation without creating a ripple. His opening line, cast gently and precisely, hooked her immediately.”

We get basically the same information, but the second has much more interest. We see Carl being stealthy, patient and skillful and the fisherman metaphor brings with it many other rich associations.

But would this metaphor work in any material? No, no, no. The metaphor has to resonate with the character, the setting, the tone of the writing. Otherwise, the reader becomes aware that you’re trying to create illusion instead of seeing—and believing—the illusion.

If Carl were a Wall Street workaholic who didn’t go outside except to go from office to car to home and back again, the fisherman metaphor would fail miserably. On the other hand, Carl doesn’t have to be a fisherman for this to work; in fact, it would likely be too strong a metaphor if he were because, in that context, the metaphor might not be fresh or unexpected. However, if Carl were on his first visit to a Caribbean island or perhaps had a summer job working in a boatyard, then this metaphor might not only fit the work and the character but extend his evolution by showing that he’d absorbed some of the setting he found himself in.

This brings us to the mixed metaphor. It’s the clumsiest trick of all with sometimes comical results. A mixed metaphor is sawing a rabbit in half or pulling a top hat from a silk scarf. It’s one that combines two or more totally different metaphors in close proximity.

“Carl held his cards close to his vest, but he couldn’t keep from wearing his heart on his sleeve.”

For one thing, those are cliched metaphors but more importantly, they are going off in two different directions. They may both be true of this character, but you need to find a one metaphor that can express both things.

“Carl held his cards close to his chest, but he still had an ace up his sleeve.”

This is equally cliche, but at least the metaphor is all about card playing.

Perfect metaphors will, from time-to-blessed-time, arise naturally out of the writing process. Our minds will effortlessly make the connection that resonates the most effectively. But—to say the least—that doesn’t always happen. During the editing process it is possible to analyze any writing that hasn’t come alive, that is more telling than showing, that seems less emotionally true than it needs to be, and look for metaphorical language that will enrich it.

This doesn’t mean that creative writing needs metaphors in every paragraph or even on each page. Every magician’s act prepares and distracts us from the tricks themselves. Moderation is the key.* Don’t force a metaphor and if in doubt, leave it out. That way when the well-placed metaphor appears as if out of nowhere, your audience will gasp.

Metaphor is a powerful reinforcement of the flexibility of language and the interconnectivity of that language within our brains. Our minds enjoy playing with the possibilities of turning the literal, abstract—the familiar, strange—the superficial, deep—the real, magical.

Metaphors do the trick.

*did you pick up on the dead metaphor? probably not. that’s why they’re referred to as “dead.”

© 2007 Nancy S.M. Waldman all rights reserved

This article barely scratches the surface of a rich vein of metaphorical information. Keep digging!
Here’s a place to start: changingminds.org/techniques/language/metaphor/

The PCQ’s MetAphorism feature use metaphors to bring out lessons in creativity:
The Desktop Shortcut
The Road Map
Burma-Shave signs
The Costume Box

Example of the use of an overarching metaphor to make a point (over and over and over again ): Growing Inspiration.

[-poetry, how-to-]

by Nancy Waldman

detail, Genji Scroll, Goto Museum, Tokyo, Japan

I recently returned from a Writing Retreat planned and presented by the members of my local writing group. One of our participants, Krista MacKeigan taught a wonderful workshop on poetry and inspired me to try some found poetry.

I chose the words for my poem from The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, translated by Ivan Morris.

outstandingly splendid things It was really splendid. I could have watched them all day as they danced, moving their wide sleeves like great wheels. I felt sorry when they had finished but consoled myself with the thought that there was a another dance to come. I was disappointed, however; for now the musicians walked off, carrying their zithers on their shoulders, and the performers immediately danced behind the bamboos. They made a most elegant picture as they glided gracefully away, their cloaks removed from one shoulder to let the sleeve hang down and the long trains of their glossy silk under-robes stretching out in all directions and becoming entwined with each other… But I am afraid it all seems rather commonplace when I put it into words.

The process is, on the surface, simple.

Find a piece of prose and turn it into a poem. Use every word as it is found in the original. Krista suggested first trying non-fiction rather than novels or short stories. Newspapers, she found, were generally lacking in enough figurative language to make it interesting.

My suggestion is to choose a piece of non-fiction prose not for its subject, but instead for the language and imagery. Find words that interest you about a subject that you wouldn’t ordinarily write about.

Remember it is ‘found’ art, so don’t agonize over this part of the process. Play with it. Choose *lightly* and see what develops. In that way, you can be surprised by the results.

I found that this kind of exercise was instructive in the areas of line breaks and overall pacing of the poem. Because I was using “ready-made” words it took away that pressure of choosing the right ones and allowed me to focus on other parts of the process. This is very much like learning about composition by using magazine scraps for collage or even painting by numbers or tracing which –while perhaps not an artistic goal–can be instructive about how artists achieve certain effects.

Once you have done several, choose one to take a little farther by rearranging, removing and adding words. You can also experiment with doing a Parallel Poem.

Parallel Poems are derivations of existing poems rather than prose. The result is a poem very like another the original but using slightly different words, images or subject matter. See below for links to some examples of parallel poems. Use can one of your found poems, or take a poem you admire and make it your own while always, of course, giving credit to the original poet for his or her work.

Other online links:

- Parallel Poetry Workshop
- Found Parallel Poems
- an online word rearranger
- See another PCQ Found Poetry article
- Our Poetry links

about The Pillow Book:

Sei Shonagon was born in approximately 965 and served as lady-in-waiting at the Court of the Japanese Empress during the last decade of the tenth century. The Pillow Book was a kind of diary or journal, though whether only for herself or written for a contemporary or future audience, no one knows.

Here is another Found Poem from the same source:

30. Insects

The bell insect
and the pine cricket
the grasshopper
and the common cricket
the butterfly
and the shrimp insect;
the mayfly
and the firefly.

I feel sorry for
the basket worm.
He was begotten
by a demon,
and his mother,
fearing
that he would
grow up with his
father’s frightening
nature,
abandoned the
unsuspecting child,
having first wrapped him
in a dirty piece of clothing.

“Wait for me,” she said as she left.
“I shall return to you as soon
as the autumn winds blow.” So when
autumn comes
and the wind
starts blowing,
the wretched child hears it
and desperately cries,
“Milk! Milk!”

The clear-toned cicada

The snap beetle also
impresses me.
They say the reason it bows
while crawling on the ground
is that the faith of
Buddha
has sprung up in its
insect heart.
Sometimes one suddenly sees the
snap beetle
tapping away
in a dark place
and this
is rather
pleasant.

The fly
should have been included
on my list of hateful things
for such an odious creature
does not belong with ordinary
insects.
It settles on everything
and even alights
on one’s face
with its clammy
feet.

I am sorry
anyone
should have been named
after it.

The tiger-moth
is very pretty
and delightful.
When one sits
close to a lamp
reading a story,
a tiger moth
will often flutter
prettily
in front of one’s book.

The ant
is an ugly insect;
but it is
light on its feet
and I enjoy watching it
as it skims
quickly
over the surface
of the water.

Originally published in the April 2006 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, theme: alterations; edited for re-publication

[-commentary, writing, process-]

by Nancy S.M. Waldman

When I was a
child, going to the library was about third on the ‘as good as it gets’ list for an activity that had the chance of coming along often. Only swimming and playing outside after dark could beat the joy of coming home with an armload of new books.

Libraries gave away so much for free: hours of entertainment, play, knowledge, excitement, and discovery. And, if that weren’t enough, there was a bonus. Any book, or even the full armload could be renewed. Simply by asking, it was possible to hold onto any of the books that held special interest or needed further study or enjoyment or hadn’t been fully appreciated yet.

Renewal is a wonderful concept to bring into our creative lives. Creativity doesn’t have to mean conjuring up something original from start to finish. Sometimes we can take what is already done, either something we once made or something made by someone else, and use it as the not-so-raw material.

This last weekend, I went on a Writer’s Retreat with six women from my writing group. This was a first-of-its- kind, home-grown affair, planned and nurtured by all of us as a short time away from our daily lives in order to focus on writing.

Arriving on Friday evening and home by early Sunday afternoon, we packed in several long walks in the country, lots of eating, carefree conversation and writing time plus no less than seven excellent presentations on various aspects of writing. We learned about Beginnings and Endings, Personal Essays, Journaling, Autobiography, Character development, Poetry and Narrative Voice. We did a role-playing exercise where we interviewed for a job in the persona of one of our developing characters. We made a collage to flesh out characters. We explored and practiced the concept of found poems.

We came home after less than 48 hours with a renewed sense of ourselves and our creative reach. We did this simply by using the resources we had at hand. The bonus is that this renewal will continue to reap benefits for weeks and months to come.

As you go through your day today, think about reNEWals - ways in which you can use what you have at hand to create something you love and what kinds of renewals you need to keep your creative energies at full level.

All the best !

See all our posts about Alterations
See all our posts about Inspiration
Need some Writing Tips and Tutorials? Click here.
Here are our articles on Journaling.

Originally published in the April 2006 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, theme: alterations