Ton-Fifty-ONE

Thursday, June 09, 2011

Creativity Seekers Encouraged to Apply

[As was the last blog entry posted here (more than a month ago), this is another column I wrote, and instead of tweaking it to fit the blog, I decided to add this blogger's note instead, and leave it as written. Please read, and then...come on along for the journey.]

— • — • —

I’ve always considered this sort of an interactive column. I write, you laugh (often at my lack of writing skills, I’m guessing), and the next week we repeat.

This week, I’d like to introduce a twist. How about if I write, and...you write, too?

Two weeks ago, I shared a few ways I try to keep my creative energy flowing, by taking photos or writing poetry or short stories. I think it’s time to kick the creativity into high gear.

Author and creativity guru Julia Cameron developed a workshop more than 20 years ago called, The Artist’s Way, which she describes as, “a course in discovering and recovering your creative self.”

Cameron’s workshop is aimed at anyone who wants to be more creative, be they painters, sculptors, crafters, photographers, writers, or musicians.

The course is 12 weeks long, and uses two basic tools for one’s creative recovery: morning pages, and artist dates.

Morning pages are three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing, done as soon as you wake in the morning.

I’ve tried to write morning pages before, sometimes in the afternoon or evening. But there must be a creative advantage to writing them in the morning, or they wouldn’t be called...morning pages.

These pages are not meant to be artistic, or even well-written. You don’t have to consider yourself a writer to write morning pages. The goal is to get your hand moving across the page, recording whatever comes to mind. Throughout the 12 weeks, no one will ever see these pages but you, so there’s no pressure for them to sound smart, although Cameron assures us that sometimes they will.

The second tool is a weekly artist date, on which you spend an hour or two alone each week, on a trip to the beach or a museum or a park, or for a walk in the woods. Or, Cameron says, your artist might like bowling.

These dates are designed to nurture your inner artist.

I have a difficult time thinking of myself as an artist, by the way, because even my stick people don’t look like stick people. But the term "artist" is a broad blanket over so many varieties of self-expression.

In the book, The Artist’s Way, each week is broken down into a chapter, in which Cameron guides us through topics of discussion and reflection, with a list of suggested tasks at the end of each chapter, and a check-in to record how many days during the week you wrote your morning pages, and thoughts on that week’s artist date.

Here’s where the community comes in. I’ve seen Artist’s Way groups formed online, to promote a sense of motivational camaraderie and help keep each artist moving through the 12-week program. And I’d like to create a group, to start and hopefully complete, our first Artist’s Way workshop.

If this sounds like a creative endeavor you’d like to attempt, please leave a comment below or contact me at the email address in the left sidebar for more information. I’d like to set up a closed group on Facebook as a gathering place for our check-ins and chapter discussions, so you’ll need a Facebook account before we begin the first week, and I’ll send each member an invitation to the group.

I’m new to this workshop myself, so we’ll be stumbling through it together the first time. I’ve known about the concept for years, but have not attempted a full 12-week session. The more artists we have working toward the goal, the better our chances (well...mine, anyway) of reaching the finish line.

My loose plan is to begin the program on July 4 (surely three scribbled morning pages won’t interfere too terribly with your holiday plans, will they?), with check-ins once a week, and morning pages as often as you can possibly write them.

So gather a notebook and a fast-writing pen, one that you’ll be comfortable holding for the next 12 weeks, and buy your copy of The Artist’s Way.

We have some creativity to wrangle!

"Art is not about thinking something up.

It is the opposite—getting something down."

—Julia Cameron

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Teacher, Teacher...Can You Teach Me?

About a month and a half ago, I wrote a column about teachers, when they were under attack from many different angles. And I meant to post it here sooner...but the timing isn't so bad, as it's National Teacher Appreciation Week. So here it is. [note: all of you teachers out there, feel free to edit for grammar, punctuation, spelling, and style.]

— • — • —

I’ve been told many times that I have a conversational style of writing, which is fortunate, because that’s what I strive for.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who’s read this column more than a handful of times that very little attempt is made to be formal or technical in these paragraphs. I show up each week with a tale to tell or an opinion to share, and I “um” and “ah” sometimes a bit too much, and throw in a comma here or there where my brain is taking a momentary pause.

It’s been my lifelong love of words and language that has brought me to this point as a columnist and writer, and it is yet to be determined where it might take me.

I credit any number of teachers in my past for instilling in me that love, and since teachers are receiving a bad rap these days, I thought I’d share what they’ve meant to me from an early age to today.

I learned to read when I was 4 years old (or so I’ve been told; my memory from that long ago is sketchy), sitting alongside my mom as she helped my older sister with her reading assignments.

In first grade, my class used reading assignments from a company called SRA. All I remember about them is those initials, and that the various levels were color-coded. I read at least one or two colors above other students in my class. And as my reading path continued and became more advanced, who guided me? My teachers.

Later in elementary school, I delved into subjects and predicates, direct and indirect objects. In middle school, I eagerly absorbed the finer points of colons and semicolons. (And whomever was responsible for teaching me about ellipses must have had some…kind…of influence. I paid extra attention in that class.) It all made perfect sense to me, and I was good at it. Better than most.

In high school, I met my most eccentric teacher, and the one who made the longest-lasting impression on me, with encyclopedias of information regularly posted on the chalkboards, and a passion for books and literature and the idiosyncrasies of language.

My teachers were there for every step, pushing me to the next level. Although English was my strong suit, I’m not discounting teachers of other subjects. I may not have excelled in calculus, but I credit my wildly demonstrative sophomore geometry teacher for my love of the rhombus.

And my chemistry teacher taught me to light a Bunsen burner without triggering a class-interrupting explosion. He also provided a daily dose of dry, subtle humor and sarcasm, which proved to be an invaluable life lesson.

This column is not to brag about how smart I am. On the contrary, I don’t even have a college degree (which, in and of itself, tells little about a person’s intelligence). But even on the college level, I had professors who cared, when I was at a point in my life when I didn’t.

It took until my late 30s to stumble across my soul mate, who, fittingly, is an English teacher, and ironically, is a professor. With almost more degrees than I have fingers.

We sit around and argue hyphens and compound words and grammar for fun, and I win my share of those battles. And then we discuss literature or poetry, and she blows me out of the water.

I’ve been surrounded by teachers all my life, and now in my 40s, I get to hang with some wicked smart people and learn about some of what I missed by not fulfilling my college experience.

In the nearly nine years I’ve been writing this column, it’s been widely accepted by 20-somethings to octogenarians, from students to doctors to, yes, teachers.

And for that, I thank all of the teachers along the way who’ve helped and continue to help build my love of language. Teachers are to be praised, not vilified.

That’s not taking anything away from psychologists or landscapers, lawyers or masons. The work they do is as important as anyone else’s. But it was a teacher who guided them on their career path.

Oh, and my mom?

She was a teacher.

“No bubble is so iridescent or floats longer

than that blown by the successful teacher.”

—William Osler