Quotes… and some other less significant shit.

My teacher at NYU says that we should keep a notebook for quotes.
Only quotes.

If find this to be a good idea, but in my case - I am not exaggerating when I say this- one more notebook in my bag, may be a little too much.
My back is already killing me.

Those 3 bags I tote around all day long are way too heavy and I can’t seem to make them lighter.
So no new notebook for me.

I will try to scribble in one of the other 3 notebooks I already carry with me, and hopefully remember that there are some good quotes to be revisited in there.

Last week, courtesy of my friend Julia, I received this one from writer Ursula Kroeber Le Guin,
- "If you want your writing to be taken seriously, don't marry and have kids, and above all, don't die. But if you have to die, commit suicide. They approve of that."

I loved it.

I have been wondering about my writing class lately.

My classmates specifically. And this quote made me think about the subject matters that each of us choose for our shared work.

That is, the stuff we read to each other in class and the papers we photocopy for our classmates, to take home and critique.

We sort of give out a piece of our soul in those copies.

It seems to me that it’s all very similar to group therapy.

The teacher obviously becomes the therapist, the moderator.

Because when you're writing nonfiction, you do end up sharing a lot of your personal shit, your views, your way of perceiving things, your insecurities, your deeper feelings and such.

(“Such” being the word that covers all that other stuff that happens to be even more personal).

Even when you think you are not sharing much, you are already sharing a lot. In fact, the less you share, the more you show.

So one ends up knowing whom the person across the room is.

Some people decide to go all the way and talk about death while others stay on the surface because they’re simply more comfortable lingering there.

Me?

I have no clue what I’m doing.

I know the motherhood bits are not interesting to all – whereas deep obscure secrets can be.

They are, like Kroeber says, very much approved of.

Suicide and dark holes, very, very approved of.

Kids and loosing teeth, maybe not so much so.

My teacher told me to breathe and slow down with my writing.

To be able to find out where I’m going with all these words and sketches.

Even in this new life of mine, I keep running,

I’m still the frantic writer.

With no dark holes, not yet.

I will say this though, the unknown ground scares the shit out of me, but Oh God is it exciting…