Hypotenuse

What was I thinking? Obviously not much.

For a previous WordPress photo challenge (Object), I posted

Sisters in Crime Heart of Texas Chapter Book Swap, December 2013
Sisters in Crime Heart of Texas Chapter Book Swap, December 2013

I don’t know why. I’d already picked out several shots I liked better, such as

Shiner Beer truck parked at Valero gas station and convenience store, February 4, 2014
Shiner Beer truck parked at Valero gas station and convenience store, February 4, 2014

and

William's foot on my brand new Kindle, October 21, 2014
William putting his stamp of approval on my new Kindle, October 21, 2014

either of which is more interesting than books on chairs.

But at the last minute the books jumped out and said, Pick me! So I did. I was later appalled at how foolish the photo looked in comparison to those other bloggers posted.

On the other hand, considered as geometric shapes–two right triangles formed from a rectangle, their common hypotenuse composed of mysteries–the picture assumes a significance bordering on the semi-artistic.

Had I cropped more precisely, or had I posted before midnight, I might have observed that before now. But probably not.

You see, I didn’t discover the books formed a hypotenuse by studying the photograph. I saw it while composing this post. I wrote the word diagonal to describe the line of books, and suddenly saw triangles.

In other words, I didn’t know what I knew until I’d written it.

It sounds backward, especially to people who’ve been told they must outline before they write. Which is practically everyone who passed through an English class before the process theory taught by Donald Murray, Ken Macrorie, Peter Elbow, and other teachers was widely recognized. Writing as process allows students to use language to discover what they know and think before they try to organize.

(Ironically, most of those early outliners could have told their teachers that outlining with an empty head doesn’t work.)

When Gertrude Stein says writers have the daily miracle, this must be what she means: allowing language to lead, using the hand to stimulate the mind, being surprised by your own creation, discovering yourself through words you’ve written.

Thinking with a pen, or a keyboard, in hand works for anyone willing to put words on paper or pixels on a monitor.

Results vary, of course.

Stephen King starts writing and ends up with The Shining.

I start writing and end up seeing triangles.

On this day, triangles are miracle enough.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Nobody’s going to make you

 

I don’t wait for moods. You accomplish nothing if you do that. Your mind must know it has got to get down to work. ~ Pearl S. Buck

I planned to say that I’m not in the mood to write, that for two weeks all I’ve wanted to do is watch Netflix from dawn to dark (dawn being in this case a relative term), that I don’t foresee a time when I will give a flip about writing novels or blogs or even grocery lists, for that matter, but that, as someone, maybe Stephen King, maybe not, said, if you don’t write, nobody cares and nobody’s going to make you, and as Pearl Buck said, you can’t wait for moods, you just have to buckle down and write, and that it would be a shame if I quit now, because as William Blake said, there’ s no mistake so great as the mistake of not going on.

There is no mistake so great
as the mistake of not going on. ~ William Blake

But I got sidetracked by the chairs pictured in “The Poets,” cited below.

They’re folding chairs with built-in lamps. One chair is named William Blake. The other is called J. W. Goethe.

I won’t elaborate–you can see for yourself–but I find them fascinating. I want one, preferably the William Blake. Although as a right-hander, I might need the left-handed J. W. Goethe.

I wonder whether the Goethe comes in green.

No matter. Neither will be in my stocking this Saturday morning.

But they’ve served their purpose. They made me smile, lifted my spirits, and put me in a mood to get down to work.

And to avoid the mistake of not going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~