18 January 2010

Writing Rituals & the Voodoo of Vinyl

by nm boliek

At various times in my life I have produced masterpieces with simple words, words that flowed like water from an eternal fountain. And I felt invincible at those moments; of course those were some of the most defining times of  my life-when pain and vulnerability along with my quietly bleating heart hung dripping and gutted, from my bloodied sleeve.  Now those were the days.
I survived love, loss and the intricacies of youth in an ill managed and foul mannered way that eventually became my hallmark; a slamming door followed by days of silence, nights of rotating vinyl and page after page of woeful exaltations’.
Emergence would only occur after Axel Rose and I had convened and summated on all the various machinations of inner turmoil. Of course he sang while I wrote, but together through the years we arrived at the same conclusion: love, people and money all come and go but the process remains. No matter what, there’s still the middle of the night, vinyl to spin and pen scrapings of scabs and wounds old & new. You see, I’m a habit writer, a formula hack, a ritualistic superstitious, gift bearing, prayer offering, soul selling, well meaning totally desperate artist. And I live under an umbrella of sheltered complexities that are more needs than desires for my creations. I happen to think most writers are like this – we need certain things to birth our creative babies – we need a tried and true process.
Finding the right combination to process is sometimes the most difficult part of being a writer. I admire those I see sitting in Starbucks tapping out their novels or the ones that create on the rush hour train. But whenever I see these people I slightly die and the laughing doubting voice inside my head utters my fears: that truly creative and passionate people can create ANYWHERE. Maybe, but creating is such an intimate process to me that I cannot imagine bearing my soul in that manner. Sometimes it’s all I can do to bear it to the cold winking cursor that cares not. On a stage, no matter how small is just not for me.
Over the years I've gotten better at confronting this fear and creating on the fly, but it’s not the way I WANT to create. And that’s really the key to how process develops - deciding how you want to do it then actively or spontaneously working to create that formula. Because once the process cements itself, you know for certain that your creativity is real and controllable and whenever you desire you can tap parts of yourself that previously only God had seen.  And this feels good - it confirms everything we've thought might be true about ourselves; that we really are more than housewives, husbands, dishwashers, sales clerks or zombies - We are Artists. Through process and communion with our soul the subsequent art we create allows us to give back to the world some of what it so graciously or cruelly handed to us.
So next time when the words are burning up the pages, stop and look around, ponder the trail traveled to this moment and mark it well. It might just lead you back here again and again. If not,  well,spin some vinyl and call up your ex from high school – that ought to do it. I can hear the door slamming now.

1 comment:

  1. Passion is such an important part of our lives. I don't see it very often-thanks.