This morning, riding out at Gilmerton in freezing temperatures, gloveless and probably wearing all the wrong attire, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Such happiness felt almost indecent, actually, but even that sober reflection could not force my mouth into a straighter line. While my helpers were struggling to keep warm and jumping around to unfreeze their extremities, I smiled inanely, filled with gratitude. I was instructed and counselled so carefully, and after a sore start, my legs settled down. Then, magically, with a straighter back and lengthening legs, sitting up from the hips instead of leading with my head, the pain left and I found my seat. I finally discovered what it means to sit on a horse properly, and move easily, go with the flow.
Yes, it felt odd to be sitting straight; but I am left wondering how often I have used my back mistakenly, forcing it to take responsibilities that should really, in the natural way of things, devolve more comfortably to the hips. Afterwards, returning to the car with that feeling fresh in my mind, I tried walking from the hips (instead of leaning forward, my head leading the way) and found that an unaccustomed straightness and unusual confidence was the outcome. Immediately, I wanted to go back and say, ‘Hey! Karen! You’ve taught me a new way to walk!! YAY!’
Quite an achievement for an unassuming class on a Tuesday morning. Must tell the ladies next week, how much I appreciate them. Would a box of chocolates and a large bunch of flowers be a bit over the top? Probably, but then – just imagine! Now, if I remember to walk from the hip, my view casts itself naturally up and outwards, instead of tilting uneasily towards the ground. Confidence lower in the body – instead of massive overcompensation in the back, neck and shoulders – translates into calmness, and awareness of what is happening on the horizon. It’s rather as if I have finally been given a pair of spectacles for distance, instead of being forced to wear reading glasses outside.
Wow.
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March 16, 2015
Writing and Resting Work in Progress
Fran Macilvey allowing, change, patience, writing The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 2 Comments
Having written up a second, third or thirtieth draft of any substantial writing project, I find that it benefits from resting a while. Writing and resting work in progress, I may decide not to look at it for, say, four or six months, and meantime take up another project to work on. It is good to have several projects on the go at once, I find, because that keeps me fresh.
Letting a book rest has obvious advantages. The more we write, the better we get, and sometimes, with the passage of a short while, it is very clear where a passage can be improved, which we thought perfect when it was being consigned to its enforced rest. I am grateful for the opportunity to improve, which time offers. After all, where’s the hurry? Unless an editor is actually breathing down our necks, why not slow the pace down and focus more on thoughtful enjoyment? Sometimes, my focus on a daily word count is a bit counter-productive.
Working alone, I also value the shift in perspective that time offers. Ideas that now feel hopelessly naïve, opinions that are exposed as a little under-proved, and examples that are perhaps just a bit too esoteric, are all easier to spot with a bit of distance. Plot weaknesses are also easier to home in on. It is amazing how often I can read through a piece without spotting that I’ve changed names half way through.
And we writers can be touchy. We don’t like other people to tell us what is ‘wrong’ with our writing; so leaving a book to mature is one way of making sure that when someone doesn’t like our writing, it is for personal, rather than pedantic reasons.
Thanks for reading.
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