write frame of mind

Last night I discussed Marilynne Robinson's Home with some lovely, thoughtful women. I forgot how much I enjoy deepening my understanding of literature through conversation. It was a friendly game of ping-pong, where ideas were served out, morphed, bounced back for further inspection and another go-around.

In an attempt to prepare myself for the discussion, I read a transcript of an interview with Robinson in The Paris Review. It was delightful, and I ran across this quote:

I really am incapable of discipline. I write when something makes a strong claim on me. When I don’t feel like writing, I absolutely don’t feel like writing. I tried that work ethic thing a couple of times—I can’t say I exhausted its possibilities—but if there’s not something on my mind that I really want to write about, I tend to write something that I hate. And that depresses me. I don’t want to look at it. I don’t want to live through the time it takes for it to go up the chimney.

When I started this blog, I quietly set a goal to write once per week, but I've detected an ounce of drudgery in my attitude (and writing) more than once. In addition, I found myself tabling excitement for topics and mentally adding them to next week's agenda to discover those same topics shriveled and desiccated after days of neglect.

Maybe it's my sense of work ethic--infused to me by generations of hard-working Dutch folk--which leaves me unsatisfied with a missed week or a bland entry, but I think writing is different for me than dishes or laundry. I can't will myself into a creative writing state like a rehearsed drop-to-my-knees-for-a-kitchen-floor mopping. And you know what, I'm okay with that...today anyway.