Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

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.

May 31, 2015

Your Rose

Filed under: Poems,Soul,Uncategorized — Francisco Stork @ 8:10 am

Imagine inside of you a rose.
You pick the color, but the color may vary from time to time.
A beautiful, vibrant rose, but tender too, like star light.
Dew gathers on her perfectly formed petals (for me she is a her).
The rose is a gift for you to love.
First you have to find her, see her, be surprised by her beauty.
Why did you ever think something so beautiful could not be in you?
Now your rose needs the moist soil of attention.
She needs to be watered with beauty and silence.
She will let you know what music is good for her.
Most of all she wants you to know how precious she is.
Love her.
In return she will give you her color, her scent of eternity,
Sometimes her wild joy.

April 25, 2015

Confidence

Filed under: Behind the Eyes,Confidence,Failure,Uncategorized,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 9:34 am

These days I’m working on re-writing my first young adult book. Behind the Eyes was initially published by Dutton in 2006 and when Dutton decided not to re-print the book, they graciously agreed to “revert” the rights to the story to me and Arthur A. Levine/Scholastic graciously bought the rights to the story. I worked on re-writing the story for a couple of years with my editor Cheryl Klein back in 2012 but I got stuck. I got lost in the writing and the editing process and the direction and unifying theme of the book got unduly complicated and confused. So I decided, with my editor’s blessing, to put this book aside and work on something new. And so I worked on The Memory of Light, the book I just finished and which is scheduled to come out in the Spring of 2016. What I’ve been thinking about as I start again on Behind the Eyes is about confidence and what it means for the writer and the writing process. I’ve been thinking about confidence because one way of looking at the previous re-writing of this book is that it was a failure. Something happened in that process that did not work. Something not good happened in my mind and on the page. I’ve been re-reading what I wrote back then and it just doesn’t sound right (although I remember sending that last version to Cheryl thinking that it was good). So you can see why the idea of confidence may have entered my mind as I contemplate what happened with this book not too long ago. What does it mean to write with confidence? I also like the word “authority” and to some extent to write with confidence and to write with authority are similar. The first thing I want to say, to get it out of the way, is that there is some pretending when you write with confidence. Pretending in the sense that I choose to write as if I had no doubts. Doubts are there, of course, but I am overriding them. I am choosing to believe that I am a good enough writer to write this story even if there’s a little voice that says that maybe I’m not. When I go in front of an audience and there is fear in me, I choose not to show this fear and instead I choose to present a person who is calm and comfortable with his subject matter. If this choosing to act one way when there is a part of you that feels different is like pretending than so be it. To write with confidence is to pretend that you are good enough to write this story. And as C.S. Lewis said of faith, one starts by acting as if one believes and ends up believing. Because confidence in writing, like faith, is something that comes, that happens in the doing. The “acting as if” opens the door to your heart so that the grace of belief can enter. There’s something else about confidence that strikes me. As I write I’m aware of the rules of writing, of the accepted precepts that make the kind of book I’m writing readable and interesting to young readers. But confidence takes those precepts and gives them a unique twist, a twist that comes from me, from who I am as a person and as a writer. Confidence allows me to take risks, to challenge myself, to surprise myself. (And it is in taking risks that I gain confidence) And if I surprise myself and discover new characters, new ways of saying something, then maybe my readers too will be surprised and will share in my joy at finding something new. Finally, I keep in mind, that confidence is not arrogance. My “failure” in the writing this same book is still in my mind. The confidence I seek is founded on humility. Humility is that middle-way between thinking you’re worth more than others and thinking you’re worth less. Humility, like confidence is knowing you’re good enough to write this story.

« Newer PostsOlder Posts »

Powered by WordPress