Transformations, Evolutions and Returning to the First Act
The Writer's Circle Newsletter [August]
Dear writers,
Every story has a beginning.
Some stories are with us from the moment we are born, as if we carry the theme of a past life into this one and already know where we’re headed— born entertainers they call us. Wise beyond our years. Our stories thematically and reflexively morph along with us, from wide-eyed infancy through the gamble of adolescence, along the experiments of our twenties and onward through the decades of perspective—influenced by the winding path of our lives and the people we meet along the way.
When we decide to author stories, realizing we are one of those people to whom ideas tend to happen and electing to write those ideas down in order to share them with others, making sense of it all becomes less natural affinity and more vocation.
Ideas are the origin points of story— meet-cutes between author and inspiration— that send us running to our computer or reaching for our phone at 2:00AM. That beginning, the origin— not to be confused with the beginning of a story— can end up landing somewhere in the middle of our work or even at the end. Sometimes you can’t know when the fellowship comes together until you start writing, just as we don’t know how the stories of our lives will unfold except by living through it, but fostered and cared for, an idea is like a seed. It is a kernel of potential at the very center of a maze that grows outward in all directions until your first draft is complete. And then, you must unfurl yourself from that fertile ground and start to explore. You must start to prune.
Revise. Revise. Revise.
This can cripple a new writer’s resolve.
It can cripple the resolve of an experienced writer.
Revision is an evolution and transformation is rarely comfortable. Like the shift of a werewolf from one form to the other, it can feel excruciating (if I had to guess). The application of devotion to vocation sounds romantic but in truth, it’s bone-crunching work. You will literally break down the structure of your story and fine tune it’s skeleton; an act of precision but also one of faith— perhaps most of all, in yourself because it can feel totally disorientating venturing away from center. Will you ever find your way back again? Hint: Yes.
We fear getting lost. Sometimes we do get lost— okay most of the time we will get lost— so I suggest that you anticipate it, bring a map. Study story structure. Consult your writing group. Ask a writing partner. Explore your process. Trust it.
Writing is revision but so is living, so your already a pro at it. This reflective symmetry is why we love reading well-constructed stories. We experience and we grow, we learn, change, and evolve and we can’t help but sink into something that feels as complicated yet predictably reliable— stories— we crave catharsis.
This is why we cannot hold back during the revision process, why the discomfort of altering something so precious to us for the fear of changing it or getting lost in what we’ve already poured so much work into or spending even more time on it must be met with the wisdom of knowing that this type of discomfort is just the next evolution of being an artist. Our works are creations, as we are— and in both cases we often get the same message when it comes time to make alterations: Go Back to Start. Remember? You fool. I knew you forgot so I used the metaphor from July’s newsletter again!
In other words, writing doesn’t have to be linear, but revision should shift our focus from origin to beginning.
A maze has many false paths that lead to dead ends. Not a pretty path for a reader. It’s sweaty work out there amongst the hedges but must transform your maze into its next evolution: the labyrinth. In a labyrinth, there is way in and one way out— First Act to Resolution— and you can decorate it any way you wish. By honing the first draft into its final form you are creating an intricate and layered story where your readers can get lost metaphorically but not literally. Catharsis. Something predictable, yet surprising, where the path is linear and symmetrical, but cannot be known until it's lived through. Sound familiar?
If you’re still unsure— sometimes we have to let go in order to move forward. Follow the lessons of August’s black moon in Virgo,, a harbinger of transformation at the height of this year’s summer heat and humidity. Re-enter the primordial stew and re-emerge anew. Unclench. Unworry. Transform, evolve and return to your beginning. Rest. Put your feet in the sand. Travel. Align your purpose. Meditate. Meet with friends. Unplug. Change your circumstances. Rest. Support your process. Rest more. Try something new. Try an old thing again.
Art happens in revision.
As do we.
Be on the lookout for next month’s newsletter!
See you at the next writer’s meeting,
Kaelyn