ARCHITECTURE AND FOCUS, Part 2

By Mary Rakow

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Many thanks for the comment posted last month, and for this story by Kasia Ekstrand written to that prompt. 200 word max. Set in the past or future.

It was half past two in the night. The ladder was rickety and steep. It had eighty nine rungs and no easy handholds. The sides were ship’s ropes: old and moldy, so that her grip was tentative and presented danger at every move. Karmina had her period and was descending to the trash heap at the bottom. That was the problem with sharing a very cosy monastery with four other female monks. The ritual forbade a menstruating sister from sharing the dormitory with the others. Usually, the refuse of everyday was simply thrown down the ravine; the crane was only used for deliveries. The system had it that once a month, each woman, whose time of the month it was, spent a few days isolated down the mountain, cleaning up and sorting the garbage. They burnt some, they buried some, all the while camping in a willow lean-to in the throw’s distance from the reeking pile. Karmina was actually looking forward to the solitude and a brief respite from vertigo that accompanied her every day in the stone house up above. The ladder moved with her heavy body. Finally, a slipper reached a flat footing, then another. She straightened out and saw that the tent was gone.

(c) Kasia Ekstrand, 2023 www.designbykasia.com

I’m using this image again to talk about another aspect of focus in our writing life.

As we’ve said, to eliminate distractions we have to know our focus. What is the greatest good I am pursuing in my life and in my writing?

Sometimes we don’t know. But in starting to eliminate, that greatest good becomes clear. It’s a wonderful feeling.

And sometimes in the process we notice that the good has evolved, has changed from one vision of the good to a higher vision, more beautiful, more compelling.

So we want to follow that, to support that. As writers we need to become very attentive to these changes so that we can support each one by a multitude of small habits, decisions, etc. In a broader sense, we want to disciple ourselves to this evolving process as writers. To disciple ourselves to the greatest good and to its evolution in our lives and then in our work.

Sometimes the change is triggered by something very small. By seeing a change in focus in another person, maybe right before our eyes.

I learned this from George last week. That it can be small. It happened like this:

I was writing my second post for this year, on a different topic. I’d expected it to take me an hour, but it took the whole day. That actually always happens! I don’t know why. And I don’t know why I don’t remember this! So it was nighttime. So…

I’m starving. I have no food in the refrigerator. I head for the grocery store which is too high-end for me now, living this chosen lifestyle, but it’s way too cold to walk further. And I see George in his chair on the corner. I haven’t seen him in weeks.

He’s holding up a this newspaper he’s trying to sell, like always. I check to see if I have any cash because usually I don’t. Not since the pandemic. But I do, and give it to him.

“This will get me out of here,” he says. “People just aren’t stopping tonight.” He doesn’t say this in a complaining tone, just as a matter of fact. He never complains. “Thanks so much,” he says again, eyeing the bus stop across the street. The bus that will take him home.

But before any of that happens he seems to change his mind. He stands up and lifts a small box from under his blanket. He’s staring at it, then carefully lifts the lid. It’s a fresh slice of pepperoni pizza and it smells fabulous. “Would you like some?” He’s not looking across the street to the bus stop. He’s not looking anywhere but at me. It’s a perfect wedge. Still very warm. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” he asks again, standing straighter, staring at my face, hopeful.

I explain about my garlic allergy and why I can’t have some. But I am dying for a bite!

Later that night, I realize from George that the good we are pursuing can change. In a moment. We can pivot toward something greater. His focus shifted away from the cold night and keeping the pizza warm and the bus home to me to me. And toward his own kindness. The pleasure of that. His pivot. His choice. So other things fell away. His kindness being, in that moment, a much higher good. Something better to focus on. Bigger. More worthy of his attention. Something to act on.

Focus is important if we want to write the story that only we can write.

And we have to be attentive to our focus and to when it changes. It might be a change in form. We started writing a novel and are 4 years into it but it feels better to break it into short stories. We set out to write about a professional set-back but fall into writing about our childhood and everyone in our writing group says the childhood stuff flies off the page.

These pivots happen. And we have to react accordingly. New focus, new supportive habits, new behaviors. I think, although I’ll know better in 10 years, that this is a constant part of writing. It’s a constant part of living, that I know for sure. And we have to get used to this and be really mindful of it and honor it if we wand to make writing that is art and not just stuff.

The world does not need more stuff. The world needs art. The world needs the stories that are singular.

That night, back home, looking across my small room at this image, I realized again why I am trying to build a life as an urban hermit. Because for the good I am pursuing, I need the city. I need the folks like George who are sitting in the cold, waiting for money to take the bus home Because, so often, these neighbors are my teachers.

Sometimes I wonder if these small, hidden acts of kindness aren’t what keeps our whole world from flying off into oblivion. ☺.

Writing Prompts

Reflection: How is the focus of my writing life changing? Am I being brave and following that inclination? Am I removing obstacles?

Writing: Write a flash fiction piece to this image, set in the present. Your character goes with work colleagues to this location for a mandatory team building retreat and, while there, experiences a radical change in focus. 200 words max.

A Word about Flash Fiction

Writing flash is a great exercise regardless of what form we are otherwise writing–book, poem, essay. When we practice compression and distillation and economy, and still produce a small arc, we flex our muscle as writers.

In Closing:

I loved SFWC and look forward to seeing work from some of you in these next few months!

More information on how I edit, fees, scheduling is here, https://www.maryrakow.com/

100 thank you’s to those who send writers my way. Most of my clients come by word of mouth. It is such a great help! Readers of this blog and your writer friends will receive my SFWC editing discount.

Good writing! And see you next time!

Mary

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1 Comments

  1. Stacy West on March 30, 2023 at 9:15 am

    The juxtaposition of the mundane and extraordinary revelations in your conversation with George remind us that we need to maintain focus and constantly ask ourselves “What is the greatest good I am pursuing in my life and in my writing?” Because, for writers, life is writing and writing is life. And in our reflections on life, we can feel the flow that happens when we are empathetic and brave. Once we remove the obstacles from our writing path, our teachers will appear. And in the contrasts of elimination and evolution, warm and cold and traditional versus modern, one universal truth has always been steadfast and constant, “Sometimes I wonder if these small, hidden acts of kindness aren’t what keeps our whole world from flying off into oblivion. ☺.” Practice kindness.



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