the magic
November 9, 2007
This is not to say that I have anything against accountants, or accountancy, or numbers, or money. This sorbet (see below) is about giving honour to “writing” as a passion, as an occupation, as a love. Being an accountant is a fine thing. Or a doctor, or a lawyer. These are fine professions and they all make the world go round. They make our lives better. They help us live. They allow us to live. But music, poetry, writing….art….(to borrow from Robin Williams a la Dead Poets Society) this is what we live for.
Unbroken
I’m at a school on the south end of town,
and we’re working on two-page short stories.
I’m standing in front of a class of grade nines,
doing my best impression of teacher.
It must be obvious to them that I am out
of my element. I’m a writer. This, is not comfortable.
One student is writing about a young girl
who takes a hammer to her piggy bank.
I ask her why, and she admits to being fascinated
by the idea – but really, has no idea why her character
might want to smash her piggy bank.
There are threads of story here, in this sketch.
I have to admit, the idea of smashing a piggy bank
with a hammer appeals to me too – but your character
has to have a reason, I say, even if it never comes out
in the story. “She has too much responsibility,” she says. “She
always has to take care of her brothers and sisters.”
“That’s good. Are both her parents living in the house?” I say.
She thinks about this, doesn’t answer and is soon on her way,
down the bustling hallway.
Next class, she reads a heart-breaking story about this young girl
with way too much responsibility, who doesn’t know why
she wants to smash her piggy bank,
except maybe it’s to get the money so she can visit her dad
on the other side of the country.
But the hammer does not break the piggy bank.
Throwing the piggy against a wall,
does not break the bank.
Putting the bank under the wheels of a school bus,
does not break the bank.
I stand there at the front of the class with this metaphor
of the unbreakable spirit of this young woman who misses her dad,
bursting in my open mouth — realize, this can’t be taught.
Writing, the process of writing that writers are always asked
to explain, in this moment, became a powerful magic again.
This young student found the magic that the dried up,
40-year veteran of some accounting firm
who wants to write his novel when he retires,
will never comprehend.
4 Comments
1. Mike had this to say: Nov 13, 2007 ~ 09:24 ~ #
That’s the thing with writing. Almost everyone knows how to do it so it’s assumed that everyone could write a novel. I believe that everyone COULD, but not everyone WILL. Kinda like running. Everyone can run, but not everyone will train for and complete a marathon and continue running.
The accountant likely does have a novel in him or her. You never know. They just may have the jam and the talent to do it.
2. Thomas had this to say: Nov 13, 2007 ~ 14:30 ~ #
Mike,
It’s a given that everyone has a story. It’s also a given that everyone has the potential to be able to craft a story (whether it’s novel, poem, short story, movie, spoken word…). Any idiot can write a novel. Not everyone has the desire, the drive, the need…or the discipline. But it goes beyond that. I think there’s a magic—an indescribable magic that happens (And I am by no means saying I have this gift) in the best writing. I think part of it is natural talent, part of it is hard work, and part of it is recognizing this magic in writing that is not your own. After doing a job — outside the arts — that has value, and even honour, for a 40-year career, it’s very unlikely that you’re going to have that “magic” part of the writing (creation) process suddenly turn on. I’m still trying to honour and nurture any glimmering of “magic” in my writing. Problem is, I have no idea what it looks like, feels like, tastes like…I don’t think this can be described. Not without metaphor and vagueness, and booga-booga. This explanation is so inadequate — it feels dishonourable and dull.
My friend Dean once said that to take a picture of a deer is to steal its soul, so I stopped doing it.
3. Mike had this to say: Nov 14, 2007 ~ 08:41 ~ #
I would agree. There seems to be a certain “magic” that is created when you immerse yourself in the endeavor of writing. Calling it “Magic” is kind of misleading, as you say. It’s more like “emotive, watchful, loving toil” than anything (on the creation end, anyways). Hard to describe for sure. It’s a lovely bastard. Honoring it in yourself allows you to see it in others, maybe. Or vice versa. I dunno. I’ll stop trying to explain.
4. Thomas had this to say: Nov 14, 2007 ~ 10:10 ~ #
I love being kerfuffled about this. I can’t put into words the part of the writing process that is for lack of a better word, “magic”. It’s slippery. It’s something that has to be refined, and left alone, and loved, and given space…over a lifetime. (I think). I’m going to stop trying to define it too. I don’t know.