You Can Force Art- The Act Of Tenacity
Writing Exercise
Some say you can’t force writing. I disagree. I think you can force anything. It is called tenacity and it’s my middle name.
People who know me use this word to describe my style, my life, and my ethos. It is true that I latch on to things/people/situations, and no matter how demanding or unrestrained they get, I never let go. With my tenacity comes some creative solutions to impossible problems, which has served my storytelling well. If you are constantly stepping outside your comfort zone, you tend to find more stories (or they find you).
Example:
I love having an empty nest after raising a bushel of kids until I am left to my own when dressing for a formal occasion. No matter who you are, dressing formally requires assistance. I like to picture my handmaidens lacing my boots and trussing my hair. But customarily, it is one of my girls checking the putty depth applied to my face and my husband hitching my zipper.
One of our kids was going to be married, and I am overjoyed at how perfectly her life has turned out. All the girls were at the wedding party, so I was left alone to apply my makeup (picture a three-year-old with granny’s old powder). My husband was called out of town to the land where the orange groves grow to visit his parents, so I was unaccompanied to dress and draft my makeup. This proved an impossible task. Unable to zip up my dress no matter how many yoga moves I attempted, I left the house three-quartered clothed. I drove to Ross and went into the front counter, and asked the clerk to finish zipping my dress. She was kind enough to oblige and then even pointed out a crease in my rouge.
Upon leaving the store, a bee came at me with a full frontal attack to my eye, thus springing my tear ducts to a full waterfall mêlée. This washed the right side of my face clean of war paint and made my eyes look like Quasimoto. I figured I would just leave it until after the ceremony because the likelihood of crying my entire face off wasn’t just a possibility but an inevitability. I have been known to sob like an infant during choir recitals to debate competitions.
The wedding was beautiful, I cried like a wailing widow. After the ceremony, I went to reapply my façade so I would not have to stand in the back row for pictures, I discovered there were no bathrooms with mirrors, and I had no mirror in my purse. There were sani-huts, but no powder room to speak of, as the wedding was hosted at a rustic barn. I did what any sane person would do and asked a stranger (from the groom’s side) to apply my makeup behind the barn. I turned up looking like a half dead hooker.
When called for pictures, this was the first time the girls noticed my face. Too kind to say anything to me for fear I had accomplished this feat by myself, they simply sent me to the back row and gave me a stiff drink. I got my picture, and we will giggle about it for years.
Another boundless writing teacher explains this trait in his own unique way. Introducing Chuck Wendig:
“You can’t force art.”
Google that phrase, and you’ll get over 20,000 hits.
Many of them seem to agree with the notion that, indeed, you can’t force art.
Can’t do it. Can’t force art, creativity, innovation, and invention.
To which I say a strongly worded:
POPPYCOCK!
BALDERDASH.
HORSESHIT IN A 7-11 64-OUNCE THIRST ABORTER SODA CUP.
I’ll posit that not only can you force art, but you in fact must force art.
Because art is not a magical power. Art is a result. It is a consequence of our actions, and the very nature of an action is that it is something we force ourselves to do.
Read the rest of his rant/advice here:
http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/08/06/yes-virginia-you-can-totally-force-art/
Writing Exercise:
Write a story in the first person where you inordinately stepped out of your comfort zone to accomplish something.
Write at least 500 words, but do as many as you want. Send it to me if you want feedback. I only find what is good—a new way of critiquing your writing.
This story has been turned into a workshop. More about Teri Bayus: www.TeriBayus.com
The Greatest Of Ease can be found here: www.TheGreatestOfEase.com
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This is HILARIOUS! As a widow for the last ten, going on eleven years, can really relate to this story...even my daughter and granddaughter "abandoned" me when daughter moved to Texas to marry a long-time love! Often joke about my "significant other," an old (neutered) male cat, but sometimes it is not a joke -- at least not one that really makes me laugh. This story, however, DID give me a much-needed laugh. Kudos!