This writing thing has become an important part of my self-expression and sharing these thoughts with you has been a commitment to the art of crafting something from nothing.
Feint wisps of ideas.
Gossamer on air.
I use my notepad on my phone to catch a fly through thought, before it completely disappears. There’s something wild about these fresh new ideas, like capturing a butterfly or firefly.
There have been many I miss. Usually I am driving to one of the prisons I work at listening to a podcast. A new idea will arrive with what I am listening to. Most of the time when I park the car and get out, the thought has left me. Foolishly I think the thought much like that butterfly will return.
Like that delicate insect, the idea sort of does and sort of doesn’t. It twists and is lost in the turbulence of other thoughts. Then returns changed adapted and disguised with a cacophony of close and distant cousin ideas. There are times when I fret that Thursday mornings will arrive and at 08:30am BST I will have nothing to say, share or display. There have been close calls where I am honing and shaping unruly paragraphs or hyperlinks in before my weekly deadline of Thursday 08:30.
Then there are those weeks when the butterfly returns with friends. I find that I cannot keep my hands still or supple enough to capture all that my mind is whizzing through. Much like my *inspirator Jeff Goins. I feel that art is in each and everyone of us.
Like the Islamic Calligrapher friend that I know. Who’s artistic talent of putting brush to paper I am ardently waiting to see, or the chef, the poet, stand up comedian, the teacher, the rapper, presentation maker, film producer, coach and fellow writers – their craft all waiting for daylight to see what they release.
Generally I don’t have a regular pattern to my time of writing. I just do. Some write every morning. Some in the evening. For me it’s as often as I can and when I do, I am searching for diamonds or gold amongst acres of untilled soil. Currently this paragraph is being written whilst the last touches to a shepherd’s pie are added. I stand in the kitchen watching, so that just enough of everything including spice is introduced. My job was to mash the potatoes add milk, butter and then add freshly grated nutmeg.
The episode of Broken Record exemplifies my experience of writing. What Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers says about the experience of writing in the podcast, resonates with me.
Flea raises what my day to day battles, triumphs and failures, with writing are like and largely lie unknown. The failures get deleted before they are released. I try hard to polish these pieces before they are let loose.
Some blogs land like damp dish sponges. Others I feel stand out like jewels. Acid For the Children from Broken Record with Rick Rubin, Malcolm Gladwell, Bruce Headlam and Justin Richmond is a great portrayal of a person willing to find their riddle.
With just over 100 pieces of sprawling thought. Filling time and air and web space the goal is to get to 200 and then see:
- Have these blogs provided value
- Are they worth reading
- What would Thursday’s or Fridays look like without these musings
I value what 2 years of consistent insistent and persistent practice have taught and helped me to unearth. I can only hope that you have appreciated what 1 – 3 hours of processed thoughts do.
In 2015 when I began writing I did not realise what I had started. How much I would gain from putting pen to paper – Now more type to screen.
I am surprised by the amount of learning I would gather. Be a willing contributor to a sharing economy with these pages. A highlight for me is when speaking with others knowing that there are tunnel’s worth of processed thought and impressions. Waiting to be discovered at the push of a button. These embossed ideas lay behind and underneath me. I have used my blogs to illustrate a point that reference other’s words and ideas too. Like a labyrinth with no Minotaur I am curious about everything and what lies at the tunnel’s ending.