Bar Harbor has been covered in fog for the whole summer. We’ve seen all the variations. Bright fog, hot fog, light fog, cold fog, am I crying or is the fog condensing on my face fog, deep fog of despair, bone aching fog, etc.
We are all dewy and pale. I’m also re-reading House of Sand and Fog. So it’s apropos.
Writing this week was a deep dive into Short-Form Creative Writing; A Writer’s Guide and Anthology by HK Hummel and Stephanie Lenox. I’m practicing writing for intensity with high stakes, graphic descriptions, and Mach 5 pacing— then paring my ten minute stories down to practically nothing just to see what lives on the page.
These exercises feel like play or exploration and I want to keep at it. I want to hold on to this play feeling when I go back to my works in progress. When I take myself too seriously, I notice my work becomes contrived and each action seems utilitarian. No duende. How boring is that!?
So, my big question is how to hold on to the duende? It has something (not exactly sure what) to do with my authority and knowing exactly what I’m doing and why—or—trusting some instinct and following it, even if it’s a red herring or a rabbit hole.
This sounds like a Germany v. Brazil soccer match. Which is exactly what being in my brain is like, but with fewer cuties and
much less finesse. I guess it’s my brain so I can change that if I want to, can’t I?
Xs and Os,
n
Duende: denude, dudeen, endued.