Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

August 2, 2018

Writing Without Anxiety

Filed under: Advice to writers,Anxiety,Faith,Vocation,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 7:31 pm

[Excerpt from Commencement Address to MFA Graduates -Hamline University – July 15, 2018]

Writing without anxiety, requires the delicate creation of what I call a bubble of faith. This very fragile and flimsy bubble contains within it the conviction that the effort is worth doing regardless of the results. In that bubble there lies the original impulse to create and my joyful response to it. In that bubble lies the meaning that the effort has for my life. In that bubble there is the confidence given by hours and hours of practice. In the bubble lies the preservation of the original call to create and the why of why I write. And even though the bubble of faith involves a certain necessary separation from what the world calls success, the bubble of faith contains an intention to give. Its creation, and the will that maintains it, is an act of generosity. It is a pure gift, like those rare times when we give our love without asking or expecting to be loved in return. Even in the necessary separation from others that is created by the bubble, others are always there. The presence of another is always there.

I have to tell you that it is not easy. All it takes is a tiny touch by the finger of anxiety to pop it. We seem to hunger for the admiration of others and we live in an age when there is no shame in asking for it, demanding it even, insisting upon it and feeling the inevitable sense of failure when it doesn’t come or when it comes all too briefly and then goes away as it always does. There is something about our ambition for admiration and recognition, for success as the world sees it, that is inimical to maintaining the bubble of faith that protects our work from anxiety. And yet, paradoxically, writing within that bubble of faith, focused on enjoyment, personal meaning and generosity, is what will bring whatever success the world has to offer you. The work created from that faith will contain the unique voice that all good readers (and editors) yearn to find in the books they read.

If you look at it carefully, you will see that the energy behind our ambition for success is an energy of getting, of obtaining, whereas the impulse to create that happens within the bubble of faith is essentially a giving. The energy behind the wanting to succeed, however, is still a valuable energy and we ought to find a way to use it.  The best way that I have found to use the energy and still preserve the wholeness of the bubble of faith is to direct the energy of getting to the highest possible goal. When I write, I want to create a book that lasts forever, a book that is out there every year on the bookstore table for recommended summer reading. I would like my book to touch spines with Don Quixote and Crime and Punishment and Franny and Zooey. Knowing that this will never happen does not take away the energy that the goal gives me, and I find that this impossibly ambitious goal fits quite comfortably within the anxiety protecting bubble of my faith in the meaning and worth of the effort. As I write the energy of that goal fills me and it directs my writing decisions on plot and character by aligning my work with the values that have kept those great books alive for us throughout time. For my faith is not in the outcome but in the value of the effort. Before I start to write a book, I envision a classic, a thing of beauty and truth. As I start writing, I very quickly encounter an overwhelming sense of poverty — the poverty that measures the distance between the ideal and the real. So, I begin the brick by brick process of creating the faith required to do this book, the faith that this is a book that I can do, and only I can do, and for some reason I am being called to do. Instead of thinking about it, I start to see, I see the images of the story, and I guide the images in the direction of a question that is unanswerable perhaps but important to my life and when there is doubt about whether to go one way or another, I follow an inner sense of giving instead of the desire to get. That is what it means to me to work with faith.  Faith is the conviction that what you are doing is worth doing.

 

January 1, 2017

2017 Resolutions

Filed under: Advice to writers,Poems,Prayer,Uncategorized,Vocation,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 10:40 am

Be a tree.

Live and know, suffer and enjoy

The spot of earth you are planted.

Root down each day for the deep moist soil of your soul

And draw from there the sap of love.

Be strong in your stillness,

But let the wind sway you as it will.

Be a shelter.

Provide shade.

Let others find rest and solace in you.

Don’t worry about whatever fruits you may bear.

Seek to be a good tree and the good fruits will come.

Be a friend of time and its seasons.

Shine bright in spring,

Glow steady in summer,

Mourn joyfully in autumn,

Let go of all that is seen in winter

To grow once more.

 

June 8, 2013

Passion

Filed under: memories,passion,Uncategorized,Vocation,Writing — Francisco Stork @ 12:54 pm

(A question by a young friend and my answer to her)

Q: How did you discover that writing was your passion and how did you actively pursue that career path.

A: I’ve been thinking about your question for a while now. I think the word “passion” threw me off. Is writing my passion? These days we tend to lift the word “passion” from the context of romantic love where it often means a kind of absorbing, exploding obsession, and apply it to other aspects of life. I’ve heard the word used with respect to golf, the stock market and rock climbing. But writing doesn’t quite feel like this kind of passion to me. There is another meaning to the word “passion” that is not much in use these days: suffering. Writing often resembles that kind of passion.

More than a passion, I like to think of my writing as a vocation — something that I am called to do. Whether you believe in a “caller” who is doing the calling or not, a vocation is, as one author said, the place where the gladness in your heart meets the world’s great need. Vocation happens when you discover your talent, something you are good at, and you find a way to make the world a little better place through the use of the talent.

I’m not exactly sure when I got the idea that I wanted to be a writer. Maybe it was when I was eight years old after I finished reading my first book and said I was going to write one too and my father gave me a typewriter. But there’s a difference between wanting to be a writer and wanting to write. I didn’t want to write until I was fifteen years old and I started keeping a daily journal. It was around that time that I first suffered an episode of depression and writing was the one thing that helped. I put everything in these journals: poems, thoughts, stories, rants of love and despair. I didn’t think too much about what or how I was writing. I simply wrote and the writing became a habit, the training ground that allowed me to write and publish a novel thirty or so years later.

I went to college and then to graduate school hoping to be a writer. But graduate school wanted scholars who wrote about an obscure area of literature that no one knew anything about, and that was not the kind of writing I wanted to do. So I went to law school thinking that I could practice law and write on the side. But the legal jobs I worked in were so demanding and time-consuming there was no time to write or even read books that were not legal books.

I was about forty-five years old when I discovered that ignoring the call to be who you are meant to be will eventually lead to very devastating and painful personal results. If you don’t exercise a talent given to you, the energy behind that talent will explode in addictions or depression or in physical illness or in countless other painful ways. So, I took it upon myself to turn my daily habit of journal writing into the writing of a novel. I woke up at 4:00 A.M. and wrote for two hours before going to my legal job. After a year or so I had a draft that I sent out and five years later, after many rejections and many revisions, I found someone willing to publish it.

I am sixty now and my sixth novel will be published next year. I’ve written four of my novels while working as a lawyer for a state agency that builds homes for low-income persons. I was fortunate enough to find a legal job that is less demanding and less stressful than those early jobs I took right out of law school. But it is still hard to find enough mental and emotional energy to do both the legal work and the creative work. I find a way to do it by realizing that it is a slow process that requires patience and persistence and lots of kindness to myself. I write because I’m somewhat good at it and the world needs us to do the things we’re good at.

But I don’t want to leave you with the impression that writing does not share any of the enthusiasm and fun that is associated with passion. There’s a joy that I find in writing that is deep and meaningful, a joy that, strange as this may sound, doesn’t always feel good, but is always worth having. If you ever find yourself doing the right thing, no matter how hard it is, you’ll know the joy I’m talking about.

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