The stream of consciousness prompt for the week is “sign.” And when it comes to signs, my brain only really goes to one place, and I was all set to write, but I went and clicked on Linda’s post. And I think that’s kind of beautiful.
Creative types tend to be superstitious types, don’t they?
I mean, we kind of have to be, right? This thing we do — creating sparkly new things out of nothing — it’s a kind of magic, innit? Scratch that — it’s not kind of magic; it is magic. An idea germinates in my head over here. I nurture that idea, shape it, water it, and finally put it in words. Those words, like spores on the wind, float into your eyeholes or earholes or whatever and bloom there, erupting like fungus to paint the picture in your mind. And the messed up part is: the picture in your head is almost, but not quite, exactly like the picture in my head. And the picture in the next guy’s head is almost, but not quite, exactly like the picture in your head.
It’s this cascading wave of creation, interpretation and invention, unfolding like evolution at an accelerated pace. Creating art is magic.
And in a world where magic exists, how can we not be superstitious?
Which is why you get authors going on about inspiration and muses and writer’s block and “looking for signs”. And that’s all well and good when the fire is burning and the muse is perched on your shoulder, force-feeding you caffeine and brilliant ideas and you feel the urge to write (or paint or compose or whatever) like you feel the urge to breathe — so strong and involuntary you couldn’t not do it if you tried. Problem is — in my experience at least — creating doesn’t work like that all the time. Or even half the time. Or a quarter. Not even ten percent. Maybe one day out of twenty I get the urge to create like that, where the words flow like a river overflowing its banks. The rest of the days? The muse needs coaxing. The inspiration needs a push-start. And I don’t get signs that I should be writing so much as signs that I need to rethink my major life choices.
Hell, for years I had the inkling that I should be a writer. I need to be telling stories. I feel that creative urge. But I wasn’t sure what. So I kicked back and sat around watching for the sign. And waiting. And watching. And waiting. Watch. Wait.
And the paint started to peel and the kudzu began to reclaim the yard and before I knew it, years had passed and I was no closer to writing a damn thing.
But the signs, man! When the time is right, won’t I see the signs?
Signs are bullsharknado.
There’s no such thing as a “sign” that it’s time to write that novel. We like to think there might be, but that’s because we rightly believe in the magic that makes our craft possible. But signs are a form of communication. A sign means somebody, somewhere, is sending you a message, and I hate to break it to you, but if you’re going to be writing, the only real person you’ll be having meaningful conversations with about your work most of the time is yourself.
If you do see a sign, it’s because your subconscious brain is tired of sitting around waiting for your conscious brain to get in gear and do the thing you’re sitting around waiting for a sign to tell you to do. In other words: if you see a “sign” it’s because you want to see a sign.
Which, by the way, doesn’t mean that if you don’t see a sign, you don’t want to see a sign. The brain isn’t that simple. But your own brain isn’t going to hit you over the head, either. (That’s not good for the brain, incidentally.) But to return to a theme I occasionally espouse here at the blarg, things don’t always mean things.
A “sign” is a sign if you think it’s a sign. Otherwise it’s just a thing.
Which is a little bit pessimistic, but there you are. Of course, the other thing that means is that, literally, anything can be a sign — if you’re ready to see it as such.
I’m rambling now. Time to reduce this grumpy word soup down.
There’s no such thing as a “sign” that it’s time to start that project. The “sign” is that tiny voice in your head that says hey, maybe I should do that thing. The moment you hear that voice? Jump on it. Do the thing.
Don’t waste time looking for signs. If you’re doing it right, you’ll soon be ignoring all the signs anyway.
Except for this one.
This weekly remotivational post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Every weekend, I use Linda G. Hill’s prompt to refocus my efforts and evaluate my process, sometimes with productive results.
3 thoughts on “Magic Signs (Are BS)”
The bit about words being like spores on the wind, is a sure sign you’re a writer at the top of their game.
Speaking of which, on behalf of what I would think would be more than a few of your regular readers, I’ve been meaning to ask you – though I’ve hesitated on a couple of previous ocasions – has there been any bites/nibbles/’signs’ of interest yet from any of the agents you sent copies of the novel/novels to?
I’m aware these things often go turtle slow and take years to find the right person to take up the cause, but if you had anything to share with us in the future regarding this, I’d like to think we readers on the blog would be the first to know.
For those who’ve been kept entertained by your words for some time now, a victory for you would feel like, in many ways, a victory for a lot of us.
Some time down the track maybe?
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Hey Glen — thanks for asking!
Unfortunately I have nothing to show so far. And I have to be painfully honest — I’m falling behind on submitting it and even on working on my novels. I know, it’s the summer, and I should be raining pages — but as you may also know, my summer thus far has been almost entirely eaten up with the move (which is progressing swimmingly, and goes off in two weeks!). I know, I know — my rolodex of excuses! So prodigious!
But the novel is still out there, and the ones in progress are still calling to me. Rest assured, when there’s movement, you (and everybody reading!) will know every detail.
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Remember: when (not if) something happens we’ll be here with open ears.