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Friday
Oct282011

Unlocking the door

Word count: 275                         Reading time: 2 mins

I didn’t need to take the Jung Typology Test* to find out I was an innie. But I did and it confirmed that I am squarely in the introvert camp. All of my life I’ve known that my energy strengthens when I am alone. I happily spend long hours walking and looking at solitary sunsets, lost in private thoughts.

Sometimes I wish it were otherwise, just as I occasionally wish my brown eyes were blue or grey or hazel. While being an introvert is an advantage for the isolated work of writing, it is a distinct disadvantage for gathering fodder for the story. So this year I’ve pushed myself out of the grotto more than ever. I’ve gone to fund-raisers and parties. I’ve seen the Kodo Drummers and the Royal Winnipeg Ballet. I’ve had interesting conversations with complete strangers. It’s been a new me. Okay, a less reserved me.

Last week was one of the best tickets of the year: the Vancouver International Writers’ Festival. I went to the session, Culture in a Petri Dish. When David Gilmour talked about the bruising apprenticeship that comes with being a writer, it resonated strongly. Even without meeting him or the other panel members, Abdou, Lynn Coady, and Timothy Taylor, their ideas and experiences inspired me.  

In November I have tickets to David Sedaris. In spite of all indications above, I’m looking forward to the crowds, the noise, and the buzz of downtown on a Saturday night. Are my spots changing? When I wake one morning will my eyes have turned green?

What is your strongest trait? Is it also your weakest?

Photo: Alan Bolitho

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* Take the personality test here: http://www.humanmetrics.com/ 

 

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Reader Comments (4)

When I read how David Gilmour described the process of learning to write as a 'bruising apprenticeship,' I broke out in a cold sweat. It's sadly comforting to know that even published authors have gone through the same agony as new writers. But what I really want to know is do those feelings ever go away, does the writer suddenly cross the threshold of doubt and reach a level of confidence where they no longer bruise? I'm not sure it's possible. It seems to me that bruising is a part of writing.

Thank you Maggie for this insightful blog.

Allison

October 29, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterAllison

I suppose the ideal is to choose who and what we let bruise us. So many people are quick to criticize while cheerleaders are few. Lots of people can say something is wrong with a story which doesn't help anyone. Only a few know how to fix it.

It's a good theory to choose which critics you listen to, but very hard to put into practice.

When Gilmour talked about going to the Toronto Film Festival, a place that had bad associations for him from many years before, he said that the body never forgets emotional pain. He said it always takes us back to the original sensation.

Having someone eviscerate your work is the same thing I think - it wakens all the sleeping 'who do you think you are' voices, as if one critic, agent, or publisher speaks for the universe.

October 30, 2011 | Registered CommenterMaggie Bolitho

Yeah ... it's like when you are a little kid and learn to draw and paint and your teacher marks it with a poor grade. What does that do to a person really? To create something is to open yourself up to fragility. Not for sissies.

October 30, 2011 | Unregistered CommenterLynn Crymble

We never forgot those public humiliations, do we? I can't discuss my worst one, even though I was a child at the time and no more than the unlucky target for a frustrated adult's misdirected anger.

I've thought a lot about Gilmour's words though - and renamed this site accordingly.

October 30, 2011 | Registered CommenterMaggie Bolitho
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