Archives | Writing and Healing

Finding Forrester

Posted by Diane Morrow on February 23, 2009 in Uncategorized

A movie about writing and transformation I don’t usually write about movies here but I stumbled across this movie last weekend and I find myself thinking about it this afternoon more than any particular piece of writing. The movie is about a young African-American man, Jamal Wallace (played by Rob Brown) who meets a reclusive writer, William Forrester (played by Sean Connery). It’s a feel-good movie, directed by Gus Van Sant, who also directed Good Will Hunting. (Personally, I like Finding Forrester better). The essence of the movie is this: Jamal meets William, they develop a mentor-student relationship, and both lives are changed. I won’t elaborate on the plot here, or give away the ending. I do think the movie is worth a look. Perhaps what’s most relevant here is a writing exercise that Forrester gives to Jamal. He sits the young man down at a typewriter and tells him to begin writing. Then Forrester waits. Nothing happens. No keys are clicking. Silence. Eventually, what Forrester does is to go get an old essay of his own and he tells the boy this (paraphrased from memory): Start with my words—type those—and then when you’re ready start typing your own. I like that a lot. That connection between reading and writing. Not just reading in order to begin writing—but actually beginning to take someone’s words on—at the level of the fingers—keying them in—and using that as a bridge into one’s writing. Choosing a passage that has the right rhythms—the rhythms one wants perhaps in one’s own writing—and beginning with those words. Hearing them in one’s head as one keys them in—and then at some point taking off on one’s own, like a swimmer going off into the water without being held up by someone else’s hands. It seems like such a simple idea, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually tried it. I think I...

The Way It Is by William Stafford

Posted by Diane Morrow on February 16, 2009 in Uncategorized

A short poem about a thread that doesn’t change I’ve liked the poet William Stafford, ever since I first came across a poem by him in some kind of anthology. I think it was in junior high. I used to read a lot of poetry then. The poem in the anthology was, as best as I can remember it, his poem, Fifteen. Recently I came across this poem, The Way It Is. I love how it’s short. And the clear central image of a thread. Simple but not. The poem begins: There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. And then there’s the line further down: While you hold it you can’t get lost. An appealing idea I think. This thread—it’s an image that could become a writing idea—or a thinking idea—or a sewing idea?—a painting idea?—a collage?—to begin with a thread— What is the thread that doesn’t change? How does one recognize it? How does one hold...

February: Thinking of Flowers by Jane Kenyon

Posted by Diane Morrow on February 9, 2009 in Uncategorized

A poem for a winter day Now wind torments the field,turning the white surface backon itself, back and back on itself,like an animal licking a wound. Nothing but white—the air, the light;only one brown milkweed podbobbing in the gully, smallestbrown boat on the immense tide A single green sprouting thingwould restore me . . . Then think of the tall delphinium,swaying, or the bee when it comesto the tongue of the burgundy lily. ___________________________________________________________ I like how this poem progresses—a conversation with herself, but not stuck—moving. First, a description, as if she’s looking out a window–Nothing but white—the air, the light Then the longing—A single green sprouting thing would restore me. The pause . . . And then the response—to her own self, to us—Then think of the tall delphinium One of the things I like best about writing is the way it can keep an internal conversation moving. Thoughts have this tendency—well, mine—to sometimes get stuck in one place. Say, that wind-tormented field, which can, in turn lead, at times, to a kind of loop of wind and torment. But writing—something happens—a green thing can sprout. A blue delphinium. A burgundy lily._____________________________________________________________ Read more about Jane Kenyon at the Poetry...

Walking to Find a Poem

Posted by Diane Morrow on February 2, 2009 in Uncategorized

Inspiration in Motion? Something about the new year, I find myself thinking more about writing ideas again—and how reading can spark writing. And, well, how exercise and movement of all sorts might spark writing. This particular idea is one I went looking for in Susan Wooldridge’s Poemcrazy after I’d been doing all this reading on how exercise can foster neurogenesis and how these new brain cells we make need somewhere to go. The notion is that the new cells need a brain circuit to join—or sometimes they just might fade away. So, a poem then as the new circuit? The walking creates new brain cells—we begin to see anew—and a poem emerges? Here is an excerpt from Ms. Wooldridge’s first chapter, “Outlaw on a Poem Walk.” For me, poetry is related to walking. Words and images fill me when I wander somewhere alone. Writer Bruce Chatwin lived with nomads and believed inspiration, as well as true rest, could best be found in motion. Sometimes I wish I could walk forever, jotting down notes and words. And the bridge at One Mile is a perfect spot to begin. Poems don’t normally have much to do with intention for me. They’re more likely to come unexpectedly in a place like this. Since it’s past Labor Day the dam is slanted low and the park’s huge swimming pool is shallow. Upstream a small girl wades with her mother. The mom’s red shirt is reflected like a scarlet lily pad floating in front of her. The two waddle in deeper, wetting their clothes. Now the mother swirls her girl through the water as if she were a minnow on a fishing line. Motion. The poet walking. The mother and her child waddling. The mother swirling her girl through the water. All that motion. The beginnings of a poem? A way to begin writing again when the writing has stalled? New cells, new circuits, new...