February 14, 2010 2 Comments
The workshop yesterday was making collages. Ann Roth is a delightful author I’ve met many times these past six years since I’ve worked to get the conflict and drama out of my life and into my stories. I’ve attended many workshops and conferences, where the speaker is so delighted at sharing their awesome truth, that I sometimes feel too tired to try something new. I’ve been working on story boarding, and moving colored post-it notes around a poster board was making all kinds of plot points click. I’ll be attending a special mini-conference this weekend with Michael Hauge and Bob Mayer presenting. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with craft and plot and want to be WRITING.
I arrived on time for the workshop, and expected to just chill and observe. How quaint, a collage workshop. The big guns will be next weekend. Except Ann Roth had requested everyone bring magazines, scissors, glue. She arrived with a pile of bland manila folders to hand out. She stood at the front of the room with her delightful smile and stated, she had only planned to help a fellow author do a collage presentation at the national conference. Her reaction was “how quaint, a collage.” But the author was a friend so Ann decided to wander around Michaels Craft store for a few hours with an open mind. Sort of like the date scenario from The Artists Way.
Like many, I groaned in jealousy at the concept of wandering Michaels Crafts store for hours.
After a few minutes of talking, Ann then waved us to the work part of the workshop. I entered the creativity space with an OK, cool, I’ll see if there’s any synchronicity here for me today. I randomly selected a few magazines, got my manila folder and found a quiet space to sit down. I picked up the first magazine and slowly fanned the pages – then – there it was – this picture of a woman in a sassy dress. I recognized her immediately. One of the secondary characters of my current novel, that deserves a story of her own someday. She was wearing the dress I had described in words, her smile huge, her hands extended as if reaching toward me in a hug.
I suddenly became delighted in my search for creative insight. The Muse works in mysterious ways.
The Muse has a wicked sense of humor for the willing novelist. I’m willing.