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Thursday, January 7, 2010

Writer's, er, ah, What?

Here’s a theory. There’s no such thing as writer’s block. There may be, however, a temporary inability to write anything worth reading. So, I sit here at a maple-topped table in the town library, twisting as the sun from the palladium window beside me casts a glare, patting my fingers on the keyboard while shifting, then crossing my legs in my seat.

I’ve responded to email, checked Middle Passages, commented on comments, read the blogs I follow, and investigated an on-line writing class--on on-line writing--that I plan to sign up for this afternoon. Perhaps then, I’ll make some sense of Twitter. Oh, and I’ve watched a sleek, silver and purple train slide by the snow piles, swing sets and castles adorning the ice covered playground, down the hill outside. Yes, I could go home and do some laundry. But Thursday is my mandatory, “Get out of the house day.” So, though the ice has inhibited my walking routine, I went to the bank and the grocery store, and, credit, where credit is due--wrote in my notebook for an hour in the French Café—which precipitated writer’s cramp, but the resulting content isn’t Middle Passages material.

The thing of it is, even when I’m struggling, I love this library. It used to do business as a school. From the outside it still looks like one--a red brick rectangular affair, with an arched center door; it muscles broad shoulders--creating deep shadows on the traffic that rounds a busy corner. The inside though, opens its arms and squeezes you with a hug of light and warmth, pulling you into one vast and welcoming room. Olive painted pillars support walls trimmed with stained, cove molding; floor-to-ceiling cherry book-stacks line one side. Waist-high shelves filled with mysteries run up the middle and rows of rectangular tables cover the Oriental carpet beside them. Underneath six massive windows, geometric upholstered chairs with matching plump ottomans beckon, and I think that maybe, it will be OK to sit there, in that one over there. Do you see it--the one where the sun is etching reproductions of the five-over-five window panes?

Perhaps I can give myself permission to curl up right there, to open a book and learn from someone else’s words, since today I’m having such a struggle coming up with my own.

14 comments:

glnroz said...

i dont know,,,you did pretty good with this post. I am attracted to old school buildings. Any kind of old buildings, actually.
Thanks for the picture.

Elana Johnson said...

I love the imagery you paint in these blog posts. Thanks!

glnroz said...

was that photo there earlier? lol.. I promise I dont remember seeing it.. lol I only saw the "pic" that you wrote. I must be losing my wore out mind.. lol,, glenn

J.B. Chicoine said...

Seriously--is that a real place? It looks too good to be true...Oh what I'd do for a library like that--I'm in full envy mode.
...and of course, you described it beautifully!

Liza said...

No Glen, your comment reminded me that I forgot to put it in! Thanks Elana! Bridget, yes, that's my Thursday hangout. It's only one room, small in comparison to the library I grew up with...but wonderful, as all libraries are!

Diana Paz said...

You did great with this post ;) Maple-topped table, I can just see it!

Wander to the Wayside said...

Yeah, I think you overcame your writer's block by the time you finished describing the library! Ours is just generic bla with fluescent lights and no particular decor. Never have felt the urge to sit a spell. Too bad, too sad, really.

Tabitha Bird said...

Well I love what you wrote. and I would sooooo love to have been there in that library with you... I guess, through your words, I was for just a moment. Thank you. :)

Helen Ginger said...

Love that library. Lots of light, yet the books are protected from the light. Definitely an inspiring place for a writer.

If you wrote this piece during a blocked period, congrats, I think you moved that block.

Helen
Straight From Hel

Sharon said...

Blocked? Liza, you have a wonderful gift. You took me back in time to see a wall of oak cabinets with stacked card catalog drawers, and inhale the soft, musty scent of aging books sitting on shelves in obedient order. Every one of your posts paints a picture in my mind. I really loved this one.

glnroz said...

Flitter,, baked in a skillet like cornbread, but is a flour based. A giant biscuit is the best I can describe it. The strangest thing happened yesterday. I pulled this up from an old "word" file and decided to repost. My sister called from out of town. She was reading a magazine with similar receipe and couldn't remember what Daddy called it. (It was his receipe) We had a good conversation about it. I think I will try to make it tonight. It has been a long while.. thanx for reading,,

Paula Villanova said...

About 5 years ago I became involved in a group called "The Artist's Way," which is really about discovering and developing creativity with regular excercises to help all of us artists, writers, and musicians help break up the block. It's amazing what can get in our way but there are definite techniques that work. It also helped me in my work life as I began to really reach inside myself truly evaluate how to move myself forward all the way around. If you don't attend a group, I would recommend Julia Cameron's book, "The Artist's Way." It's a great resource.

Sarah Wylie said...

This is exactly where I'm at right now. Although, if this is your idea of not being able to come up with words, then the rest of us are done for. (Alright, me. *I'm* done for.)

Is that really a picture of your library?

Liza said...

Yup Sarah, it really is!