Detached Reality
Whenever I’m having trouble describing something, whether it’s a moment from my past, or a river, or the taste of ice cream, I must first clear my mind of language. Once this is done, I picture what I’m wanting to render in my mind without attaching any words to it. I just see the river, and I feel what it would be to stand next to it, and notice what about that river I am most interested in. Once I have perceived it clearly in this way, I allow the language to come forward again, and the words are more satisfying, matching as they do what it is that actually drew to me to what I was trying to write.
This is an exercise in detachment. I am detaching experience from language. I love language, but a river exists whether we have a word for it or not. So too ice cream and toothpaste and people. Language is just a tool, albeit a fantastic one, to exchange ideas and stories, and to help humans better connect. But I can still feel connected to another human without any words at all, whether through a touch or simply meeting a stranger’s eyes. There we are. The connection is always there whether we’re talking or not.
This detachment is useful to remember when we think about success. Writers can spend a lot of free time fretting about success or their lack of it. Sometimes success means finishing a book, sometimes it means selling a book, and sometimes it means getting on a bestseller list. Everyone’s definition is different, and often it changes as our expectations change. What doesn’t change, however, is what we hope to gain from that success: a feeling. What we all want most of all is what we will feel when we achieve whatever we believe success to be.
If I find myself obsessing in this way over some result, believing my life will be that much better when it finally, finally manifests, I focus on how I think I’ll feel when that faithful day comes. That’s what I really want, after all – the feeling. So, using my writer’s imagination, I picture how I hope I’ll feel, and then detach the feeling from the event. There it is – worthiness, peace, certainty. There it is, and nothing has happened, nothing has been achieved or written, no contract has been signed, no review received. There it is, right there with me, ready to be expressed, the fuel for my journey, never its destination.
If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.
Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com