Brooklynn, my niece, turns 11-years-old tomorrow. She asked her parents for a laptop, mini-fridge, or something else I can’t remember now. And even though her eyes seemed to grow bigger while talking about the laptop, it’s the mini-fridge she really wants.
I feel about writing as my niece does about drawing; frustrated and want to delete everything.
Earlier today, I watched Brooklynn draw in a graphic design app, and it was mesmerizing.
In order to see the strokes she’d draw, she’d pinch her fingers from wide to narrow so she could zoom the image in and out. She performed this zooming action as quickly as a blink, and do it repeatedly.
“I’ve been practicing lips.” She said in the midst of tapping dark red and shading in an outline she’d made earlier. “I wish these lips were mine.”
“You don’t like your lips.”
“No.”
She added a white circle on the left side of the upper lip, “for lightning.” and a few other strokes but then stopped and added, “I hate this. It never gets close to how I want it.”
Able to relate, I said. “Yeah. I’m sure. But isn’t this part of the process to getting closer to what you want?”
“I guess. But then I’ll delete it. And then what’s the point?”
“I don’t know if there is one. Sometimes, I’ll write a whole page and delete it.”
On the drive home from the birthday party Toto’s “Africa” came on the radio. The lyrics of the song, the way the vocals move in and out, the drums – it’s a song (and there aren’t many) that I could listen to on repeat.
To me it’s a perfect song, but I wonder the person that created it feels that way?
Will we always be critical of our work no matter how good it is because it could always be better?
Do I want to delete this still? Yes. Will I? No.
Ok, good. Then get to bed. Fine, but don’t tell me what to do. Ok, I’m sorry – Will you please go to bed? Since you asked so nicely, I’ll think about it. Great. Don’t pressure me. I’m not. Yes, I saw you looking at me. I wasn’t looking at you – please, let’s not fight. No one’s fighting. Is this, can this, please let’s just go to bed. But I need to brush my teeth and put on my pajamas. Ok, then do that. Don’t tell me what to do! I’m done. —Brought to by Stream of Consciousness
Love always,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 
We tend to focus on what’s on the page, but we’re not really making that peice of paper any better or any worse. Words are just imaginary symbols, and paper could care less whether it’s covered in our lifes work or a grocery list. By creating, we’re refining and developing your own understanding of the process of creation. True art is not what is on the canvas, it happens in our minds, and true creativity is no defined by the result but what we take away from it.
And sometimes we need to realize what we don’t want to come to what we’ve been seeking all along. Delete those pages to make room for the words we really want to write, and lets thank those pages in the trash bin for their service to our growth.
Happy writing!
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“True art is not what is in the canvas, it happens in our minds…” Um, Joey…when can I read your book?!
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