Write on,

Write on,

creative kindling
to write on

I keep 3+ journals on the go. My most treasured is my noticing journal. My place to record the fragments and observational morsels that weave into the recipe of story in their own time.

Sensory Noticing - my practice & its origins

I attended photography school many moons ago, after a career ending dance injury, to see myself and the world with more clarity. I bought all new Canon gear. I studied aperture, f-stops and ISO values. I was READY and eager alongside my Photog 101 classmates to begin snapping away! But our teacher had a different lesson plan. She took us to the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, a structure infamous for how light and sound moves through and around it. She smiled softly and said, “Put away your cameras. We won’t be using them today.” Crushed expectation smeared across our faces. She continued, “Today you will begin learning to notice, to see, to observe. You will spend six weeks honing the art of noticing without shooting a single frame. The photograph happens with the creative eye, not the camera.” Noooo! This isn’t what I signed up for. But I had already paid and took pride in finishing what I started, so I went along for the ride. A ride that changed my creative work and continues to enliven it today.
For six weeks I noticed. I noticed how light lengthens, the flicker of fire in the eyes of someone frustrated, the cigarette butt that keeps burning in the rain, how trees can appear friendly or like mad giants depending upon the time of day, how any emotion within me was free to flow when I noticed, how sky scapes had changing wrinkles…and how the photograph and story sat in the quiet unobserved until I noticed it. The art of noticing cemented my love of photography and overflowed to acting and especially writing. Side benefits were more ease, joy and intuition in all pockets of my life. I’ve learned that noticing is creative spark and the richest way to drop into the folds of the present moment, which is the only place creativity calls home. It’s as readily available as the air we breathe, when we stop.
—> To notice.

Just make your story honest and tell it.

Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman brings the fire— reminding writers of the importance of what we do, what the job actually is, and who we do it for.

Do you think human creativity matters?

Art is sustenance. We need it. I personally need my writing like oxygen. Here’s the rub— the only true way to express ourselves is to know ourselves. And how do you do that? By following what you love. I believe we’re all born creative and have something beautiful to express. And when we do that and make time for that, we’re the closest to our aligned selves and fullest expression we can humanly muster. Which is why we’re all here and holds all we truly want to feel in life. So if you’ve been needing one, here’s your permission slip to be creative— to get as close as possible to what you love.

A new year wish, from my pen to you.