When do you feel most like yourself? Your authentic self, I mean.
My 2-year-old grandson Eli is way into the Moo of Me. He's discovering his authentic self and announcing "myself" to the world. When you offer to help him with a task such as opening a container of pudding he says, "Do myself!" When we sat at the kitchen table talking the other day, he placed his little hand on his chest when he was sharing something he had done and said, "Me, myself." My heart goes out to this small emerging person who is finding his identity. Probably most of us don't remember differentiating ourselves from others, but imagine what a huge step that is! Not all that long ago Eli was floating in an embryonic fluid quite symbiotic with his Mom. Now he's a "Myself!"
When you are writing, who are you?
We've written here in the past about the importance of relaxation, of moodling, of kicking back when we write. We want to tap our creative spirits. Let the ideas flow like milk from a productive dairy cow!
This time around, I want to share with you that that cow was once a calf, and I want you to access your inner child to find inspiration, playfulness, great ideas, and deep emotion. Yes, you need to use action verbs, yes you need to draw on all the senses in your descriptions, yes, you need to use clear language, but none of that will accomplish memorable writing unless your writing comes from the heart.
The most honest, most fanciful and gut-wrenching emotion springs from your inner kid. Writers can harvest great armfuls of creative genius from deep inside themselves. Make friends with the kid and writing sings with feeling.
However you accomplish it, when your imagination soars, the fun of it all can be the cow's pajamas. Imagine how J.R.R. Tolkien must have felt creating Bilbo Baggins or how J.K. Rowling felt creating even one of her minor characters, such as Harry Potter’s message owl, Hedwig.
There's a place where Hamlet, Cujo, Hannibal Lecter, Scarlett O'Hara, Elizabeth Bennet, and Maya Angelou's caged bird are all hanging out and singing together. But I don't know where or how to touch that kind of genius. I do know that it’s my inner kid who delights in the yellow-black butterfly sucking nectar from lavender phlox, who listens keenly to the cry of geese in the November sky, who is surprised by the sandpaper feel of a kitten’s tongue when it licks milk from my finger.
If you say, OK, fine, I get that, but HOW do I harness the Moo of Me?
Return to the relaxation tool. Just sit and do deep breathing. Maybe do a little meditation where you imagine walking down a path and meeting the little kid inside of you. Ask her how she feels. Summon your courage and ask her if she'll help you write a story.
There she is—Me, Myself. Open to what she's feeling.
Happy writing!
Nan Lundeen
http://www.mooingaround.com/
http://www.nanlundeen.com/
Nan Lundeen's book of poems, The Pantyhose Declarations, is available at amazon.com. She is seeking a publisher for her handbook, The Moo of Writing: How To Milk Your Potential.
Artwork copyright by Cynthia Morgan.
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