Getting My Foot in the Iron Door
This is probably the post where I get kicked out of the book club over at HCB.
I figured the trouble would come eventually.
I try to not to put too much stock in book titles; seems they fall into the same category as covers when it comes to judging. So I’ve been trying to ignore the fact that I’m reading a book about my right to do anything.
But with this week’s three chapters, it caught up with me.
::
Before I got all rankled over ruthless, enlightened self-interest and slamming of iron gates, my head was nodding along as Julia Cameron spoke of writing as “comparing notes” and a means for bringing images into focus — of bringing clarity and understanding to our lives.
I love staring into the distance. I love squinting at the image of things yet to come. I love the process of watching them come into focus. That focusing is writing. (p. 29)
This, I understand. Almost daily I see life brought into clearer focus as I beat out my confusion and anxieties with pen and paper.
I appreciate this imagery of lens and focus.
She goes on to explain that writing not only helps to clarify, but also helps to construct:
Writing is medicine. It is an appropriate antidote to injury. It is an appropriate companion for any difficult change. Because writing is a practice of observation as much as invention, we can become curious as much as frightened in the face of change. Writing about the change, we can help it along, lean into it, cooperate. Writing allows us to rewrite our lives. (p. 31)
The writing, in other words, doesn’t necessarily change the outside forces. But it does give me a place to change my point of view and my response. And in that way, I can rewrite life as it goes along.
I appreciate employing the writing process to take responsibility.
::
But Cameron giving me permission to do things that I already struggle not to do?
This I don’t appreciate.
I am already self-focused. I already live far too inside myself. I already look for an excuse to
“slam the iron door” when drama invades my life.
I don’t need to be urged to do this more.
Cameron encourages the writer to be undeterred by these outside forces in diligently taking to the page. She asks the question, “Will I keep the drama on the page . . . or will I engage in a drama that will keep me from the page?”
It’s a worthy question. To the extent that I allow life and its events and relationships to be an excuse not to get to the page, I think that’s a valid exhortation.
But then isn’t it easy to let the page be an excuse not to engage in life and its events and relationships?
There’s a really skinny little line to walk there.
She relates keeping at arm’s length a conflict between two close friends as she was writing. She brushed off their various phone calls, telling them “I can’t really get into this now. I’m sure you’ll work it out. I am due at the page.”
Her example of John Barrymore in Twentieth Century is telling.
Whenever he is crossed by someone whose will seeks to thwart his own, Barrymore hisses, “That rat . . . I slam the iron door.”
Once he has slammed the Iron Door, the person or problem no longer exists for Mr. Barrymore. What does exist is whatever theatrical problem he was wrestling with. In other words, his is a ruthless, enlightened self-interest.
. . .
With that, I head back to the blank sheet of paper. I slam the Iron Door. I refuse to engage in any drama except the drama that serves me and my purposes. I practice exactly what I preach: if you dump drama into my life, I will put it and you on the page. (p. 42)
That skinny little line? I don’t walk it that well.
I’m far too often reaching for that handle on the iron door, winding up for a good slam.
The last thing I need someone to tell me is to stay more detached, not to move toward people, to brush off people’s pain (or joy) while I pursue “me and my purposes.”
Remember that value of writing as a focusing tool? Here’s what’s come sharply into focus for me as I’ve written this morning: Maybe I’ll never grow up as a real writer this way, but I can’t make the page a bigger deal than the people in my life.
::
Posted as part of an ongoing discussion at High Calling Blogs on Julia Cameron’s The Right to Write. Read Laura’s post today as well as other related posts to join in the discussion.
Laura’s Invite the Muse to Tea
L.L.’s Julia Cameron Meets ProBlogger
Glynn’s The Poetry that Surrounds Us
Cassandra’s Living With My Writer
nAncY’s Thoughts and Dreams
Nancy’s Mood Altering
Monica’s The Sincerity of Pretense
Photo: Old Doors 1, by Victor Iglesias
Now, Lyla, tell us what you really think. ; – )
I think Cameron’s message is for the people who never give themselves permission. For those people, it is an incredibly powerful message.
And Cameron’s a total writing evangelist! Sometimes evangelists can be annoying. :
2010/05/03 at 12:07 PM
Also, a quick question…
do you think she is advocating making writing a bigger deal than people?
2010/05/03 at 12:09 PM
Long answer…
I haven’t read enough of her work to be able to say what her overall outlook would be. And really, I understand that she’s trying to encourage us not to let life derail the writing. I get that, and I can live with that.
But do I hear her advocating writing as more important than people? In this chapter at least, I do. Her focus seems very much to be on “me and my purposes.” I might well be reading her wrong, and I’ll leave the iron door open to consider that
. But I get this impression like all of life is there to either advance her writing or thwart it, like that’s the filter everything goes through. So, people are fine, relationships are good, but only to the extent that they will inform my writing. (That dangles my little toes over an abyss I shouldn’t get too close to, so perhaps I read her with too much caution.)
I can appreciate the wholehearted pursuit of passion, but remember where I got myself in trouble on the last book discussion? I think our dreams and passions are designed to fuel our pursuit of God. When they become an end unto themselves, they stop being about loving God and loving people, and that’s dangerous.
That said, there was a lot of good in these chapters, and I’m seeing more of that as I read the other posts. I’m appreciating much of what she has to say, but I’m still going to get snagged here and there.
2010/05/03 at 12:19 PM
“I think our dreams and passions are designed to fuel our pursuit of God. When they become an end unto themselves, they stop being about loving God and loving people, and that’s dangerous. “
Yes…
2010/05/04 at 8:55 PM
Bless you.
I know what you are saying here. What you are saying is right. It its true.
Taking care of the writer can simply be God’s invitation to a joyful life. Not a shutting in and a shutting out, but an opening of the heart and the eyes. It means we notice what He has given us and we celebrate it. Real joy can be a way to worship the Joy-Giver.
“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” Not the twisted, shallow things brought in with sin. Not the self-focused, self-absorbed thoughts of crafting a life for ourselves apart from him and apart from troublesome people. Not the refusal to give, to be involved.
No, what is meant here are the universal desires of the human heart. The ones He wove into us when He knit us together. We are hard-wired for Him and for life with Him. No amount of sin takes that away.
We long for love, for meaning, for glory. And yes, for joy. Whether or not your joy is a good thing is all in how you view what you are doing and why you are doing it. Does our joy connect us to Him and to those that He has given us to love? It can. The key is how we pursue it and why.
I pray that He will lift you up and help you see His way for you on your journey as a writer.
I left an additional comment at HCB in the conversation.
2010/05/03 at 12:48 PM
Cassandra, thanks for this. Comes back to the pursuit — of me and my purposes or Him and His?
2010/05/03 at 9:07 PM
I struggle with putting the needs of others before my own, so I relate a lot to what L.L. says in her comment about giving myself permission. I understand what you say, though. Cannot advocate writing over people (I’ve been interrupted several times in trying to get my responses and links up this evening because both boys are having math crises…dad working late, mom is all they have. Can’t walk away from that!) That said, I think this is a valuable piece of advice when followed with love. Something to chew on anyway.
Love your honesty, Lyla
2010/05/03 at 4:44 PM
There’s that stealing time, Laura, taking it in between, when and where we can.
And I can sure appreciate that it’s a hard thing to allow yourself to do. Perhaps it’s just the way she characterizes it as something self-indulgent that gets my hackles all curly. I don’t know. I think I just wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when she is “due at the page.”
2010/05/03 at 9:12 PM
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With a house FULL of kids I cannot just slam the iron door and close out the drama. Some days I wish I could. But it does help me to stop everything, close the bedroom door, and write out the situation. When I work through it on paper first, whether it is with my children or someone else, it does give me clarity. Maybe because I find the words turning to prayer on the page. I give God first place then I am able to deal with people. When I surrender my heart to Jesus through the writing I can then be free to love others. So write a book I will probably never do. Yet offer prayers to the Father written longhand, like breathing in and breathing out, I do this often.
“I think our dreams and passions are designed to fuel our pursuit of God.” I like this, I long to live this. In everything to pursue and glorify Jesus.
2010/05/03 at 4:50 PM
Some days, Nancy, I expect you would love to have an iron door… I just don’t see the way you approach it as what troubles me here. I hear what you do, and it’s really a process for you of seeking Him in the midst of life that turns crazy, rather than seeing that life as an obstacle to your own single minded pursuit. Does that make sense? I’m feeling as though I stepped in it a bit with this whole discussion here and over at HCB…
2010/05/03 at 9:14 PM
Yes, it makes sense. We should all think about why we do what we do. I ask my kids, is this a way to honor God? I try to view everything from this lens. Do I always accomplish this, no, but I keep striving to reach that mark. I see you doing the same. Step on in, it is honest and real.
As I read the next chapter I could only feel sorrow for Ms. Cameron. Maybe her single minded pursuit is because things in her real life are not working out so well for her. Don’t know her, this is the first thing I have ever read or heard about her as far as I know. I like some of her thoughts and writing tools. But I will definitely have to filter some here. Taking the good and leaving what doesn’t fit with my view of life.
Thanks for being brave.
2010/05/04 at 11:46 AM
Oh dear, should I just skip next week?
2010/05/04 at 3:46 PM
Lyla, I appreciate the discussion and processing your were willing to engage in – outloud. I admire that. It’s how we grow and learn to do whatever it is we do-on purpose instead of by default. This is why your post is incredible. You’re thinking about on purpose. Hashing and thrashing, wrestling down truth. Thank you for honoring all of us with your real self.
2010/05/03 at 11:12 PM
Kathleen, how is it that on days you stop by I’m all a-thrashing around?
2010/05/04 at 3:35 PM
Isn’t it easy to let the page be an excuse not to engage in life and its events and relationships?
Thank you for the courage to share with writers some less than welcome words, that we need to hear regularly. Writing with excellence is a gift from the Lord. Like any gift, we can come to value it more that the Giver, and make it a self-serving idol.
I attended a writers conference a couple of weeks ago. In one session, we were given a piece of paper to tape on our door telling the family if it’s that important, call 911. Yes, I have times when I tell my family I need to get some work done, and I don’t expect to be interrupted unless it’s urgent. I have other days when I’m in tears because there simply aren’t enough hours to accomplish everything, and my soul suffers when my writing suffers. But the day writing becomes so much of my life that I forget the first and second commandments, I think I should expect the Lord to treat it with the same contempt He might any other idol.
2010/05/04 at 1:19 AM
Anne, idols are a big deal. And it seems they are most readily formed from gifts the Giver gives. Sad, that, but true. At least it is for me.
2010/05/04 at 3:37 PM
Hi Renegade Girl,
I appreciate you. Keep to it. You add so much depth to any conversation, and you challenge me to examine why I do what I do.
I’m not in the book club, but this post (and the conversation in the comment box) has me thinking. Especially this: “I think our dreams and passions are designed to fuel our pursuit of God. When they become an end unto themselves, they stop being about loving God and loving people, and that’s dangerous.”
Maybe it’s because I struggle with it. I know I have closed the Iron Door too often, and made some of my days about the pursuit of words, instead of the pursuit of God, pure God.
I know that I’ve done it, because God has as much as told me so (often through my girls). I often tell my girls (who love the Wii and ClubPenguin.com): “We have relationships with people, not screens.” … They’ve turned that on me a time or two. And I know there’s more to this writing we do than having a “relationship with a screen,” but I don’t want to shut out the people God has given me to love and nurture right here behind these four walls.
I’ve long ago reached the point of rambling, so I’ll end this by saying: “I get you.”
2010/05/04 at 8:40 AM
Them’s kind words comin’ from a wretch like you.
We see it in others so easily (ie, our kids) but not so much ourselves.
Perhaps this hits me more squarely because of my own struggle as well. And that’s not going to be everybody. Some truly need that permission. I need restraint.
2010/05/04 at 3:40 PM
Oh Lyla, I don’t think you’ll get kicked out of book club for your honesty here! Quite the opposite, in fact — look how much diaglogue and conversation you’ve opened up. And I appreciate what you’re saying here. It’s easy to be wooed by Cameron’s words and writing evangelism — but when I take a hard look at myself, I realize I am selfish enough, thank you very much, and would do well to keep the iron door open a little more often! Point well take, friend!
2010/05/04 at 1:21 PM
Thanks Michelle, wasn’t sure when the Tribal Council would convene. Open discussion is good — I just don’t want to make it harder for those who struggle to take the time they need and barricade against the distractions and go ahead and tend to the writer just because I happen to have the opposite problem. Grace runs in a river that hasn’t just a single current.
I too am quite selfish enough.
2010/05/04 at 3:42 PM
I’m not sure how Jesus would feel about slamming the door just so he could write. That seems to fly in the face of relationship. In the electronic age, I wonder if her book is that important, giving people permission to write when they don’t give it to themselves–I guess those people still exist, but everyone seems to write, twitter, or text about everything, permission or not.
2010/05/04 at 3:31 PM
My mom used to tell me that I have time for the thing I want to do — hated that (sorry, Mom). But it’s a lot true.
To be fair though, I’ve latched onto something that lasted only a page or two in the book, and perhaps done the author an injustice because of my own defects and limitations.
2010/05/04 at 3:45 PM
This sheds so much more light on the brief exchange I encountered yesterday at HCB – and goodness, I HOPE you don’t get kicked out over it! I’d have to leave too!
It also opens my eyes to something a friend of mine has lived that confused me greatly – she is a Cameron fan and bought me her book “The Artist’s Way” for my birthday last year. Honestly, I’ve not been strong enough to read it yet. I can’t keep my heart eyes open so easily when I am so tired and stretched-out, and even things from friends can affect me deeply at times when His Spirit brings them to light. I am glad to read this post, glad to understand a bit more – about the book, about your heart.
I think you just blasted that Iron Door wide open…
2010/05/04 at 9:08 PM
So maybe I’ll take back that offer to send you the book when I’m done?
I’m glad to know this cleared things up a little. It does seem I was having perhaps one of my least coherent moments ever over there . . . Your heart is a tender one, one I appreciate so.
2010/05/05 at 12:57 PM
I am sure you can appreciate the irony in how long it has taken me to get to this. I wanted to read it slowly, read the comments slowly.
I so get you Lyla.
deeply. trust me.
I understand that setting boundaries are good. I understand that we need to prioritize and delegate and find the spaces of the day to be ourselves fully realized .
But .
I haven’t yet figured out how the desire to use my gifts, real or imagined, can stay beneath the role I have to serve.
I am working on this right now. I so appreciate this post of yours. Very much.
2010/05/07 at 10:00 PM
Deb, thank you. There is much to figure out, how this all works together. God gives us this stuff for a reason, you know? But finding how that doesn’t become its own thing, I don’t know.
It was a lot easier to figure out when I only wrote in notebooks that piled up in the closet.
2010/05/07 at 10:12 PM
“Maybe I’ll never grow up as a real writer this way, but I can’t make the page a bigger deal than the people in my life.”
Maybe I won’t either.
But neither can I.
Sweet dreams.
2010/05/09 at 4:35 PM
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