Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

November 19, 2015

Ten Observations on Depression

Filed under: Depression/Bipolar,The Memory of Light,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 8:09 pm

As I was writing The Memory of Light (Arthur A. Levine/Scholastic, January 2016), a novel about a young girl recovering from depression and a suicide attempt, I jotted in a little notebook that I kept next to me, random thoughts and observations about depression that occurred to me as I wrote. These kind of didactic aphorisms don’t belong in a work of fiction unless you have a character that can utter them as naturally as a hummingbird hums. Yet, they are part of the musing, reflecting and imagining that happens in the process of writing a novel. I offer some of these thoughts to you in the hope that they may be of benefit to you.

  1. Because depression is part of you, hatred and anger toward it will only hurt you more. Think of depression not as an enemy to be destroyed but as an adversary to be opposed with quiet strength, like the firm but loving opposition to a child’s dangerous whim.
  2. Depression may be a part of you but it is not the whole of you. Nor is depression the part of you that is in charge. The part of you that feels and recognizes the symptoms of depression is the part of you that runs the show.
  3. You don’t think you’re worthless because you have an infection on your leg but often you do when you have depression. What’s the difference? In the case of depression the thoughts of worthlessness are the infection.
  4. Just because depression has a chemical and biological component doesn’t mean that there aren’t good reasons in your life for you to be depressed. A fever tells you there’s something wrong in your body. Depression sometimes tells you there’s something wrong in your body and in your life.
  5. If you have a friend who will go bowling with you or to a movie or window-shopping or do anything where dialogue is optional but not expected, count yourself extremely fortunate.
  6. You’ll know you’re getting better when you notice yourself getting angry at the incredible number of jerks that populate our world. Know that the anger you’ve lived with for so long is making a U-Turn.
  7. There are many things you will dislike doing when you have depression. Figure out which ones you can stop doing (going to cocktail parties or other social functions dominated by small-talk) and which ones you need to do even if you don’t feel like doing them (going for quiet walks, showering, being kind to your spouse, being useful to others, as best you can).
  8. Remind yourself now and then that like all mental illnesses, depression distorts your perception of reality and your reaction to it. A friend that doesn’t call doesn’t mean that you’re unloved by everyone or unlovable.
  9. Listen to Music. Put your earphones on and really listen. Let the music dissolve all thought. Become the music. Your depression will guide you to the right music. There are times when music will save your life.
  10. Depression doesn’t make you more intuitive, more sensitive, more spiritual, a better artist. You are not a better person just because you hate yourself for thinking you are a better person. If you are lucky depression will teach you that you are an ordinary human being blessed with the gift of life. And if you are okay with that, you are on your way to being healed.

October 22, 2015

Writing that Opens Windows

Filed under: Inspiration,Integrity,Religion,Rumi,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 8:14 am

To open up windows is the function of religion, says Rumi, the wonderful Persian poet. And I would add of writing as well. But how? What kind of writing opens up windows? So much of what we write simply repeats what is in the windowless rooms of our reader’s mind. So much of what we write does not open up a window to something new or something valuable that has been forgotten. Writing that opens up windows gives a new perspective to a reality that in many ways has been shaped by others in predictable ways. A reality that has been shaped since childhood by ancient prejudices and fears, by commercial expectations of success, by the media. So when you write, ask yourself if you are opening windows or whether you are simply reinforcing in the reader what is already there. Writing that opens windows is more than a metaphor – it is a practice, a technique, a decision that is made before you start to write and constantly as you progress in your work. There are innumerable places when your story can go in one direction or another, when your character can be this way or that, when you can choose to say or not say something. Writing that opens windows then becomes an ever-present, bold search for the unpredictable, a struggle to shift the reader’s perception toward some new way of seeing and feeling and understanding. Writing that opens windows arises ultimately from the writer’s recognition that art is capable of feeding the hunger for meaning that exists in the reader’s soul, or at the very least, awaken it. Art helps us live. It gives meaning and solace and hope to our lives. Writing that opens windows allows the reader to look out and be a part of a larger world. It lets the reader know that she is not alone with her yearning for truth and beauty. But writing that opens windows also lets light in. When writing opens a window it becomes a vehicle for grace. It allows grace to enter a person’s heart. Grace can have a divine origin if you are religious, like Rumi, or it can simply be the gratitude for living that life bestows to anyone open to it. Finally, writing that opens windows can only happen if the writer opens windows in his or her heart. That’s the ethic, the responsibility, the integrity of this type of writing. Your writing will open windows in the reader’s life to the extent that you open windows in yours.

June 28, 2015

The Little Things – More Thoughts on Depression

Filed under: Beauty,Depression/Bipolar,Soul,The Memory of Light,Uncategorized — Francisco Stork @ 10:06 am

A few months ago I wrote about some of the lessons I learned while writing The Memory of Light, the novel scheduled for Spring 2016 that deals with a young girl’s recovery from a suicide attempt and depression. I said that one of the things I learned was the importance of having an ideal – an image of someone we want to be. Then in the months that followed that post, I thought and worried that the need for an ideal might be seen as some kind of quest for perfection which, because it is unattainable, might increase the sense of unworthiness, failure and shame so ingrained in depression. So I wanted to add this. Yes, the mental shift needed to heal from depression (which includes learning to function with its presence) requires an orientation toward the future, toward transformation, toward becoming someone you admire. But the healing powers of an ideal can be felt in even the smallest motions toward it. I can remember days when emptying the dishwasher and knowing that I managed to be helpful in some way felt like an accomplishment. Or the days when writing for fifteen minutes in my journal gave me hope. In some ways, the suffocating prison of depression forces you to focus on the little things of life. I like to think of Ivan Denisovich in Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s story about life in the Stalin work camps. At the end of the day Ivan remembers the brick wall he helped build, the unexpected extra cup of soup he received, and says to himself that all in all, it was good day. The small things. The kind word we manage to utter, the understanding silence of a friend, the yellow in the lily, the red leaves of the Japanese maple tree, the rain, the blanket, the memory of a touch, the smell of hot tea. The small things we do and the good things we notice, the glimpses of the beautiful that we catch, the light that we remember, these make up our journey toward our ideal.

The healing of depression will depend on our ability to integrate the aspiration toward something new and a loving acceptance of the now which encompasses not only who we are but who we have been and all that has happened to us. Ancient writers distinguish between spirit and soul. Spirit is an upward force that looks toward the future, seeks becoming, is restless for understanding and achievement. Soul is a downward force that pulls us toward silence, wants to linger in the beautiful and the unusual and the invisible, is at peace with mystery, is compassionate with frailty.The integration of spirit and soul is a life-long task for all, not just for those who suffer from depression. Yet it is in depression where a lot of us most acutely feel the dis-integration of these two vital forces. Depression is an illness of both spirit and soul. There is no upward push of spirit and the downward pull of soul, which in health gives our actions value and meaning, becomes in depression a destructive uncontrollable suction into a painful darkness.

So I come back again to the little things because that’s where you’ll find the wholeness of your soul and spirit. It is soul that will show you little instances of goodness, tiny moments of beauty and joy in your life. And it is spirit that will give you the strength and the direction to use those glimpses of goodness and beauty for the creation of the person you want to be, are meant to be.

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