The other day in class my group was talking about how we all have different ways that we write, and this got me thinking about my own process of writing. Upon further thought, I realized that it’s not uncommon for me to get side tracked from my main point. Thinking about it in the context of this class, the closest thing I can relate it to is something that we’ve read about in both frenzy and in re: f(gesture). In both of these works, there’s mention of a labyrinth.
In Everett’s poem “Body” there is a stanza titled “Labyrinth.” As Christina detailed in her post “Anatomy or a Maze?”, Everett is referring to the organs within our ears that allow us to have hearing and balance. These canals are arranged in such a way that it looks a lot like a labyrinth in the traditional sense of the word. Soundwaves have to travel through this labyrinth in order for us to take in sounds for our brains to then interpret. My writing is like these soundwaves; desperately trying to follow the right path in order to convey what it needs to. When considering this in the traditional sense of a labyrinth (the confusing mazes), to reach the exit of the labyrinth would mean that I successfully figured out what point I was trying to make and got it across to the reader. But there are so many different paths that can be taken in a labyrinth, and you never know you’re taking a wrong turn until you’ve already reached a dead end. This can be really frustrating for me because it feels like a waste of time, but I just remind myself that it’s okay to explore multiple trains of thought, even if they have to be cut off later. Although none of it is truly a waste of time because a kernel of an idea that had taken me down one path can inspire me to try a different one that has the potential to be the right one.
In Frenzy, the labyrinth of reference is of course one pertaining to Greek mythology, and I still only know the basics of it. But just how Theseus follows Ariadne’s thread to escape the labyrinth, I often find I am able to gather my thoughts together if I force myself to continuously follow one strand of thought. I allow myself to introduce other ideas, but only as long as they can relate back to my chosen thread. If they don’t then I just cut them off like they are unnecessary frays from my original thread. Currently, this is the only way I have found I am able to find the exit, but my writing process can always change as I grow. There’s not just one way to get out of a labyrinth; you could climb up the walls and walk across the top, dig a tunnel under it, or any other method of escape that your imagination can think of. But with my current skills as a writer I don’t think I’m at that point where I can make my own way through; I am still very dependent on the structure of the labyrinth. I have in no way perfected this practice of finding my way out, but these blog posts and this course as a whole have allowed me to make major strides forward in this constant battle that I have with myself when writing.