Goats and Diligence

I just tried drawing the head of a mountain goat. And failed miserably.

Yet I have this dream that I am artistic. That if I could just get my hands on a brush or my fingers into some clay then I could create all of the wonderful images I hold in my mind. I have the urge to create, to be able to create, to throw paint on a wall in some immediately fascinating design, to mold clay into a delicate and full-bodied piece. Forgetting, maybe, the minute and detailed strokes and the finger aching pinches that it takes to create a masterpiece.

Dr. Simons once said of a student, in his delightfully sarcastic tone, “She arose from the ocean, a goddess!”

That’s why I like collaging. I can piece together already polished and complete images. I can copy and meld, instead of copywrite and mold.
It takes a lot more energy to create.
I’d rather rise out of the ocean, a goddess. I want to be there already. I don’t want to bother with the journey.
See, I have the dreams of painting and modeling clay because it seems like it would be so much easier than writing.
Key word: easier.
I have some good ideas, I have some great images, but I want the easy way out. I can hardly think of how to put it into words, hardly stand the thought of all the painstaking labor it would take. But oh, give me a paintbrush (and some skill) and I could have it for you in a minute!
A goddess..

I’m intimidated.
I’m intimidated by the work. By the diligence that I know I should, but don’t, have. By the sheer energy, not necessarily of the body, but of the mind – that can churn the bubbling, frothy inspirations until they become something firm; that can shovel through all the heavy yet dead weighted character sketches, brief pithy dialogue and feeling until I have a clear pathway of a storyline that can bring me from beginning to end.

And although I can blame my laziness on many things, it isn’t something new.
Even when I was younger and liked writing, I never saw myself becoming a novel writer. I couldn’t imagine myself writing all the way through something like that. I would read inspiring quotes and want to become a “quote writer” – become famous for short statements, instead of realizing that each of the quotes I was inspired by had pages and years of work and thought behind it.
Poetry worked for me. Maybe a story or two. And I really enjoyed essays. I even thought for a while that I wanted to become famous for blog-writing.

A goddess.

It’s hard work for me to even think of how to conclude this. And I mourn the sad-state of the student body that I see every day? Am I much different? Much different from the mind-set that googles rather than researches, that plagiarizes rather than writes, that writes disguised notes on their arms rather than learns?

I’d sure like to think so.
I mean, a goddess shouldn’t have to work for something, right?



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2 responses to “Goats and Diligence

  1. springsofgraceteam

    i can relate to this (sooo much.) and it almost hurts. but you know what i thought the whole time i was reading it? “she wrote this. and it’s good. it communicates something and it’s just plain good.” did it take work to write it?it was worth it.

  2. springsofgraceteam

    oops, that was from me (rachel thompson) by the way.

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