Certainty about my writing
One of the most limiting things I do is to get stuck in "certainty." Like when I used to tell those who asked about my writing, "I'm not sure what I write yet, I'm still looking for my voice, but I do know I don't write poetry and I don't write fiction." By the way, at this time, I'd have to admit my writing was slow, and tortured.
I continued to write non-fiction and poetry until one day I was writing a short piece about a little girl and her dad, a situation that didn't turn out well. So I wrote it the way I wanted it to turn out. And voila, I wrote fiction.
When asked what I write these days, I say, "mostly what my muse tell me to write." I literally disproved my certainty, changed my story and am writing more and better everyday.
And so I wonder how often I miss out when I am asked a question about this-and-that, and in the heat of moment say I know about this-and-that, but it's simply not true. How often do I get smug-set in certainty, holding at a distance an opportunity to obtain a new view? I love to be certain. But being certain keeps me stuck where I am.
And then I was invited to join a writer's group, a long-standing cadre of mostly poets, who met each month, read their work and asked for feedback. I can remember each time I was asked about a poem, I prefaced my comments with, "I am not a poet, but . . ." Until one day I was in the shower, actually present to the sensory experience, and a poem spilled out of my head. I figured it was an accident until I found short poems popping out on a regular basis. I do write poetry.
I continued to write non-fiction and poetry until one day I was writing a short piece about a little girl and her dad, a situation that didn't turn out well. So I wrote it the way I wanted it to turn out. And voila, I wrote fiction.
When asked what I write these days, I say, "mostly what my muse tell me to write." I literally disproved my certainty, changed my story and am writing more and better everyday.
Certainty about my photography
A few years ago I joined an online photographers' community, and connected to some true talent. They had equipment, software and know-how beyond my capability. I was certain I did not want to be the kind of photographer that manipulated photos more than I ventured out to shoot them. Until one day, instead of being certain, I opened up my dinosaur version of Photoshop Elements just to explore more-than-minor editing work on an image that had been gathering electronic dust for years. I always thought it had great composition, but because of the harsh light of the day, was a bit flat. I played around with the image until I discovered I love it as a painting. And while I hope I never believe that the value of a photo is how it can be altered, I posted my first two majorly altered photos into my photo community, including the image above. As it turns out certainty was limiting, and some images need work before anyone will give them a second glance. After all, even Ansel Adams was a master in dark room adjustments.
A few years ago I joined an online photographers' community, and connected to some true talent. They had equipment, software and know-how beyond my capability. I was certain I did not want to be the kind of photographer that manipulated photos more than I ventured out to shoot them. Until one day, instead of being certain, I opened up my dinosaur version of Photoshop Elements just to explore more-than-minor editing work on an image that had been gathering electronic dust for years. I always thought it had great composition, but because of the harsh light of the day, was a bit flat. I played around with the image until I discovered I love it as a painting. And while I hope I never believe that the value of a photo is how it can be altered, I posted my first two majorly altered photos into my photo community, including the image above. As it turns out certainty was limiting, and some images need work before anyone will give them a second glance. After all, even Ansel Adams was a master in dark room adjustments.
And so I wonder how often I miss out when I am asked a question about this-and-that, and in the heat of moment say I know about this-and-that, but it's simply not true. How often do I get smug-set in certainty, holding at a distance an opportunity to obtain a new view? I love to be certain. But being certain keeps me stuck where I am.
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