The Mind and the Pen

For Christmas I and two of my sisters were given The Young Ladies' Course for Proper Writing by Becky Moorecraft. Each lesson has a lecture, questions, and, perhaps our favorite, writing exercises. So far we've only done two lessons.

The last exercise was interesting: take some publication (I used the workbook) and find at least ten interesting words or phrases in four categories. Then write a short story, poem, three-paragraph essay, blog post, etc. Needless to say, blog post appealed to me.

Gathering the words was fun:

NOUNS:
status quo
innocence
shiver
frailty
oddity
disgust
woe
loveliness
image
vehicle
refinement

VERBS:
tantalize
diminish
infest
distort
pour out
crush
gasp
swell
journey
hone
glean
gambol

MODIFIERS:
graceful
barefaced
ramshackle
poetic
adequate
thick
mere
trippingly
untutored
exceedingly
exact

The last category was the most interesting: phrases or quotations.

"I'm conscious of many people as I write."
"into the jaws of death"
"a reminder of all the choices"
"the mind travels faster than the pen"
"careful interpretation and application"
"putting into it the squirrel as well as the mountain"
"spoken words are slippery"
"I haven't had time to make it shorter" (This was a quote from Blase Pascal, who apologized for writing a long letter, saying he didn't have time to make it shorter. I immediately delighted in this quote. I often when writing-such as this very post-feel that it'd be better shorter, but how to explain myself in such a short time? It'd take a lot of thought.)
"compensating merit"
"fashioned as for the palace" (a quote from Solomon, I believe)
"my portion, rich and full" (another Bible quotation)

After scanning these words, what is your overall impression or thought? Mine was clear, and I knew I would be writing about writing and posting it here. This is what I wrote.


The Mind and The Pen

The mind travels faster than the pen. At least the unfiltered images that swell in my mind press against the tip of my dull pencil as they attempt to pour out onto the lines of my notebook. It's the vehicle for refining my thoughts, for crafting untutored ideas into exact and graceful flow, for honing the oddities into acceptable propositions. 

I'm conscious of many people as I write. Mere need to express is tantalizing to me, but words are slippery. Which have compensating merit to be taken from the barefaced frailty that infests my mind and tutored into poetic loveliness? What is adequate and worthy of being fashioned in the palace style? Considering the unfiltered impulses that gambol through my thoughts, unique and far from status quo, I am reminded of all the choices, of the exceedingly vast journeys that I might probe with my pen. Which is one from which others might glean some benefit, to find our time profitably spent? This requires careful interpretation. 

Mostly my musings remain rather ramshackle; though I attempt to put in the squirrel as well as the mountain, yet not distort my thought or disgust the reader, the journey is often too tedious for others to take after me. So I sometimes gambol alone, for I haven't had time to make it shorter.

This reminds me of an assignment for the poetry writing class I am taking this semester. We had to write an "Ars Poetica," a poem about poetry. By "had" I mean that that was what we learned about that week. Poetry being what it is, we aren't really required to follow the assignments given each week.

I almost didn't, because I knew what I wanted to write about (the drive to write poetry in order to understand my own thoughts), and I had some ideas of what to write (for example, explicitly what I meant, something like the essay above, and some ideas for a metaphor), but nothing was inspiring.

Then the idea of a pit of snakes came to mind, and I decided to pursue it. I wasn't excited about it until I was well into it.

Organizing Thoughts by Poem

The rocky dirt cuts at my hands
as I scoot close to the sharp edge
like an army-crawling soldier.
Peering down at the neon colors
weaving in and out like a living rug,
I realize I’ve avoided my task for too long.
I must get these serpents in order
before they multiply enough
to escape the dark hole they inhabit.
Struggling to lift my cold iron tongs,
I extend my arm deep into the abyss.
The muscles in my calves tighten
and my toes, digging into the ground, ache.
My eyes squeeze shut
as with both hands I close the tong’s jaws
around the closest snake,
waving its head at me like an enemy flag.
Pushing up digs my elbows into the sandy gravel,
driving stones into my skin like a million BBs.

I shudder at the almond-shaped pupil,
reminding me of Quasimodo, my yellow-eyed cat.
I shrink from its squarish face,
reminding me of a Chinese dragon.
Moving the tongs to one hand, with the other
I grasp the clear plastic storage box,
Pulling it towards me and stuffing in the vibrating snake.
I slap down the lid and latch on both handles
lest it nose its way out.
The hissing creature squirms,
but now I clearly see its body through the plastic:
Jonny green and taxi yellow,
White scales along its back like lightning bolts,
holes like gills above its bloody red dragon mouth.
I glance from the caged creature
to the tangled mass below.
One set,
twenty-one thousand to go.

Again extending my arm against the rough wall,
I am startled by a face rising
like a gray Loch Ness monster.
With eyes darting about as if searching
for flesh in which to sink its thick round teeth,
it is already tasting the air with its tongue,
both shiny black like oil.
With tongs quivering in my hand,
I nudge the smooth head towards the plastic walls
waiting like an empty cell.
Silently the creature dives in,
rippling over the box’s edge
and coiling at the bottom as if it belonged there.
Tongs clattering to the ground, I slap down the lid,
click on the handles, and swivel against the box,
heart pounding, fingers resting in the dust.
Two done,
twenty-one thousand to go.

What do you think? Can you tell what I'm doing with it? Some people can and some people have to have it explained.

Sorry for the length, but "I hadn't time to make it shorter."