Writing in my Sleep

 A few nights ago I found myself writing in my sleep. I woke up at 4am, unwillingly, but convinced that sleep wouldn't return unless I managed to get some of these crazy ideas down. So I got up, dressed and came downstairs. By the time I had turned on the light and powered up my computer, the urge had passed. Much like waiting at the toilet to pee when nothing manifests... this felt like a false alarm.

So what was so compelling?

I first half-woke with thoughts that it was imperative that I write an article about various methodologies I had used for testing glazes in our studio. No idea why... but it was imperative that I write it immediately. I quashed that idea, or I thought I had. The next idea sprang into my head with wet feet. I was sure that I needed to jot down the latest ideas for the garden. (To date, I havent written a single thing about the garden... don't know that there are any readers out there that would give a rat's ass). 

Sitting in my shorts downstairs at 4am, staring at my computer screen with a profound case of writer's block was ironic considering the imperative nature of the impetus. But there I was. Dry as a bone. Empty as could be.

I've been contemplating the nature of writing without an audience. Not sure how I feel about the idea. In some ways, I have always written for someone. It started in school with classmates who I wanted to "feel" whatever it was that was racing through my head. If I couldn't bash their heads in with a guitar (I couldn't even play spoons!)... then I would use my words to flood their minds with tides of surreal imagery and emotions I was struggling to contain. It didnt endear me to my peers. It never occurred to me that it might not be very approachable. Hmm. 

Tonight I am writing with half-baked ideas, late enough that I should be in bed. I had been listening to a Newfoundland band called The Fables for the last hour. The last time I dug out these tunes was before the coma (pre-Sept2009). I had forgotten how rich and intimate these songs are! It feels like they are playing right here in the kitchen. I wish they were still making new music. I struggle with finding ways to play my "old" music (stuff on MP3 on the hard drive) as opposed to the convenience of listening to streaming music on Spotify. Spotify goes everywhere with me on my phone and connects to all my bluetooth devices. I wish there was a simple way to push music to an app on my phone from my server in the basement. Seems like it should be an easy thing... but I havent figured it out.

So, as the written equivalent of breadcrumbs, I leave these notes here in hopes that I will be able to come back, another time to flesh them out. I think some of the ideas about the studio might make for interesting articles for one of the ceramic magazines. Who knows? Maybe as I start getting those ideas out of my head and onto paper I will find myself better able to write about the garden. After reading other gardener's works, I am loathe to write "another" gardening book. I have ideas, dreams, about our garden... but it isnt like other gardens. We'll see if writing about it helps illustrate just how different it is.