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Writing what we can
Almost since this whole whatsthis scenario started, I have been itching to write something. It felt like forgetting a word but you can feel it is right there, on the tip of your tongue. I had no idea what I wanted to write about, and despite trying different paths, nothing came up.Writing must come with purpose, at least that is what I have always thought. Sometimes what stops us is self-conciousness; I often don't want to write something I think it's not good enough, or that fails to tell a story. But really, what is a story, so you know you failed? Beginning, middle, end? Setup, conflict, resolution? Isn't any conversation we have a story on its own?Thinking of everyday stories, things that simply happen to us or to the world around us, reminds me of kishōtenketsu. It is the classic Eastern narrative model in which stories are understood as a sequence of introduction, development, twist and resolution. Kishōtenketsu is also about harmony, so the ten is a point where you introduce a foreign element, an imbalance to the ordinary world established in ki and shō. Reaching harmony in ketsu is not about surpassing an obstacle or beating an opposing force, but assimilating the new element into your reality. One could argue it leads to a lack of conflict in a story, but that is not the point; the point is that conflict is not the center of it.While coming back to this overestimation of conflict, I think of not being able to write despite how much I want to write, of the fear of not finding a so-called good story to tell. And how ego feels more relevant now that our internet personas became our whole personas, in a year where most if not all of our relevant social connections were made online. Is it that important? Should every story be incredible, extraordinary, tied in a pretty bow of answers and resolutions?Often when I get into this "must write something good" mode, I turn to the one exercise that helps me unlock, which is free writing. Ten minutes, pen and paper, just write whatever is on my mind. Took me a while to understand it is in fact an exercise in letting go of your ego. Materializing thoughts into words is a story in itself, the words accommodate to each other and create a narrative of their own.There is value in writing shitty blocks of text that go from nowhere to nowhere else; it is the exercise of the craft, heart surgeons mastering meditation, ice skaters learning how to twerk. The core of what makes it time worth spending is how it will add up to your knowledge, your experiences. Make no mistake, I am writing this to convince myself too.Any shitty is better than no shitty. Right?-Maíra
Almost since this whole whatsthis scenario started, I have been itching to write something. It felt like forgetting a word but you can feel it is right there, on the tip of your tongue. I had no idea what I wanted to write about, and despite trying different paths, nothing came up.
Writing must come with purpose, at least that is what I have always thought. Sometimes what stops us is self-conciousness; I often don't want to write something I think it's not good enough, or that fails to tell a story. But really, what is a story, so you know you failed? Beginning, middle, end? Setup, conflict, resolution? Isn't any conversation we have a story on its own?
Thinking of everyday stories, things that simply happen to us or to the world around us, reminds me of kishōtenketsu. It is the classic Eastern narrative model in which stories are understood as a sequence of introduction, development, twist and resolution. Kishōtenketsu is also about harmony, so the ten is a point where you introduce a foreign element, an imbalance to the ordinary world established in ki and shō. Reaching harmony in ketsu is not about surpassing an obstacle or beating an opposing force, but assimilating the new element into your reality. One could argue it leads to a lack of conflict in a story, but that is not the point; the point is that conflict is not the center of it.
While coming back to this overestimation of conflict, I think of not being able to write despite how much I want to write, of the fear of not finding a so-called good story to tell. And how ego feels more relevant now that our internet personas became our whole personas, in a year where most if not all of our relevant social connections were made online. Is it that important? Should every story be incredible, extraordinary, tied in a pretty bow of answers and resolutions?
Often when I get into this "must write something good" mode, I turn to the one exercise that helps me unlock, which is free writing. Ten minutes, pen and paper, just write whatever is on my mind. Took me a while to understand it is in fact an exercise in letting go of your ego. Materializing thoughts into words is a story in itself, the words accommodate to each other and create a narrative of their own.
There is value in writing shitty blocks of text that go from nowhere to nowhere else; it is the exercise of the craft, heart surgeons mastering meditation, ice skaters learning how to twerk. The core of what makes it time worth spending is how it will add up to your knowledge, your experiences. Make no mistake, I am writing this to convince myself too.
Any shitty is better than no shitty. Right?
-Maíra