I need a computer that I can carry in my pocket. I always
read when I go out to eat and almost always read something that makes me want
to rush home and put thoughts down on paper. Such was this morning…
Reading Brooks Jensen’s Letting Go of the Camera where
he is talking about the exoteric and the esoteric in photography and using
religious references as illustration. He mentioned some quotes from Edward
Weston, Minor White and Mark Twain. I was familiar with the Weston and White
quotes but it was Twain that made me want to write stuff down.
Probably about 2004 I made a much valued cyberfriend as a
result of a social faux
pas—not unusual for me—not the making a cyberfriend part, but the social faux
pas part. I learned that Robbie was teaching creative writing at Tarrant County
College and I was, at that time, writing a little fiction. She offered to
critique some of my work. Well, I am NOT a writer so I really don’t recall that
I ever sent her anything, too embarrasshing, but we did often discuss writing.
I mentioned that I do not normally care for ‘stream of
consciousness’ poetry but that I seem to use stream of consciousness when
writing fiction. This was brought to my attention in 2002 when I attended my
first class reunion for the BHS Class of 1957.
I had to a great extent put Burkburnett out of mind when Dad
died in 1985. Didn’t have much reason to go back and actually questioned my
sanity in signing up for the reunion. The event triggered a lot of memories of
my youth there. Driving back to Houston, I began to wonder what I as a 63 year old would
have offered as advice to me as a very confused teenager of say 16. When I
returned home I wrote a short story that I titled The Song and the Silence
in the Heart, taken from Longfellow’s poem My Lost Youth.
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy's brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
Across the school-boy's brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
When I started I knew only one thing that I wanted to write.
The older and wiser (?) me would meet the very confused me in the middle of the
football field in the stadium behind the old high school building for a
conversation. I would answer questions and impart wisdoms to solve the dilemma
known as being a teenager. Well, that was the scene that started the story but
the wisdom part turned out not to be so easy. The story concluded after some
ninety-nine single spaced pages and I am not sure that either came out wiser
but it was a very interesting journey. (Yes, Alcy, I just go on and on!)
The older me turned out to a Jewish man that had converted
to Catholicism, neither of which do I know the least thing about. The younger
me was much better looking, more popular and a whole lot smarter than I ever
was. There is hardly anything in the story that is based on more than a smidgen
of fact. The closest I came was that one of the characters was suicidal. He,
like me, being a Baptist, couldn’t just off himself so he decided that if he
drove recklessly and had an ‘accident’ then maybe he would have a plausible
excuse when he met the good St Peter. Unlike me, the character in the story
carried the supposition to its conclusion. I still don’t know whether it would
have worked or not.
Instead of writing about what I thought I was going to write
about I ended up examining a hindsight version of society at that time, mid
nineteen-fifties, along with the difficulties of being a teenager from the
viewpoint of the much more evolved society of 2002.
I told Robbie that I enjoyed just seeing where the story was
going because it went places I never intended to go or had ever gone. In the
end I realized that I was each and every character in the story, which I found
very interesting. As a character in the story I could experience things I had
never experienced. Yet I knew that I was the character.
I used the term ‘stream of consciousness’ for a lack of
knowledge of any other term to describe what I experienced during the writing.
Robbie informed me that is not the way to write and I feel certain she is
correct.
Back to Brooks Jensen. I do not know that what Brooks wrote
is a quotation from Twain or just a generalized comment about writing taken
from something Twain had said.
“Every writer knows there is a point at which the characters
take over the plot and the task of writing changes from one of creation to one
of observation.”
That is what I experienced.
Regretfully, The Song and the Silence has long since
been lost. It may be on a drive I can no longer access but I doubt that I will
ever see it again. I have tried writing
fiction a couple of times since but those half dozen or so short stories I
wrote about that time seems to be all the writing I had in me—it just doesn’t
come back. Besides it interferes with my photography.
Actually to make this about photography it would be just as
applicable to paraphrase that statement…
“Every photographer knows there is a point at which the
photograph takes over and the task of photographing changes from one of creation
to one of observation.”
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