I'm trying to discern whether there's anything April Fools here, but for me at least there isn't. I like to boulder. It is, as you say, anti-thinking. It's a breathing space to switch off from everything else. I often come away from it feeling invigorated and creative, which I'll gladly take.
I refuse to boulder and only climb sport (because, you see, it’s not the heights that scare me, it’s the ground, so the higher I get, the better I feel, assuming I have a rope). Now I’m going to spend the whole day mulling over whether that’s somehow a metaphor for my writing process. Really enjoyed this piece!
Thank you for this and others of your essays. I’m 65 and struggling with the whole “I’m running out of time for everything I want to do! Trying to get better at making art is so time consuming! What am I trying to do? Ack!!” thing, but really, there’s no shortcut for The Work. So, thank you for your example.
I feel that Kurosawa metaphor intensely. After noodling along with no fixed trail for several months, I recently wrote an outline for my book. It seemed like that would be the answer to getting me to just take it piece by piece, step by step, until I got from beginning to end. But then I began to doubt where I had placed the beginning, so I'm back to noodling along. It's easy to get overwhelmed there, to fear looking up and not being able to gauge how many steps it is until the end. I just tell myself that wherever the beginning and the end, it's all just steps in between. So, focus on the next step.
It's all here, and it's all exactly right. Especially this bit: "...realizing how a lot of what you think seems pretty dumb when you write it down." Eventually, though, you find a way to make your next move, dumb or not. Seriously, do you have any idea how reassuring it is to know I'm in such good company on this? Geez!
I've been talking myself out of writing about the parallels between writing and trail running for months, but your wonderful essay is giving me permission to—pun intended—venture down that path! I loved this newsletter issue.
And as someone who tried bouldering this month (a few minutes of grueling effort spread over an hour-long visit; still nursing a sore wrist) I chuckled at this post!
All true. I've done a climbing wall once - terrifying but exhilarating. And you say, all concentration has to be on what you're doing, step by step. Writing has to be done in the same mindset but boy is it difficult to achieve
You metaphor is so fitting. Craft is everything. I am a beginner flint knapper. And you do a lot of staring at the piece of chirt in your hand before striking. The angle, the force, must be weighed carefully--which is--it sounds like--very similar to bouldering. And writing. Thank you for this!
Goddammit, Mason, you've fucked me up again with your good points and stuff.
Really enjoyed this, Mason.
I'm trying to discern whether there's anything April Fools here, but for me at least there isn't. I like to boulder. It is, as you say, anti-thinking. It's a breathing space to switch off from everything else. I often come away from it feeling invigorated and creative, which I'll gladly take.
I refuse to boulder and only climb sport (because, you see, it’s not the heights that scare me, it’s the ground, so the higher I get, the better I feel, assuming I have a rope). Now I’m going to spend the whole day mulling over whether that’s somehow a metaphor for my writing process. Really enjoyed this piece!
This is not wrong, and also, I feel attacked (even if perhaps it's an April Fool's essay...)
Thank you for this and others of your essays. I’m 65 and struggling with the whole “I’m running out of time for everything I want to do! Trying to get better at making art is so time consuming! What am I trying to do? Ack!!” thing, but really, there’s no shortcut for The Work. So, thank you for your example.
Your analogy of reaching for the next toehold reminded me of this “baby bat feet” video: https://m.facebook.com/watch/?v=683069195738535
Not an exact illustration of your example but it makes me laugh every time. Best wishes in your ongoing creative bouldering!
I feel that Kurosawa metaphor intensely. After noodling along with no fixed trail for several months, I recently wrote an outline for my book. It seemed like that would be the answer to getting me to just take it piece by piece, step by step, until I got from beginning to end. But then I began to doubt where I had placed the beginning, so I'm back to noodling along. It's easy to get overwhelmed there, to fear looking up and not being able to gauge how many steps it is until the end. I just tell myself that wherever the beginning and the end, it's all just steps in between. So, focus on the next step.
okay, nice analogy. I never thought about it like that! Though I do admit, my writing process does consist of a decent amount of staring at the wall.
It's all here, and it's all exactly right. Especially this bit: "...realizing how a lot of what you think seems pretty dumb when you write it down." Eventually, though, you find a way to make your next move, dumb or not. Seriously, do you have any idea how reassuring it is to know I'm in such good company on this? Geez!
I haven't gone bouldering in 10 years! But I love the comparison, and your essay makes me think perhaps I should pick it up again...
Loved this. At least writing doesn’t require uncomfortable shoes.
I've been talking myself out of writing about the parallels between writing and trail running for months, but your wonderful essay is giving me permission to—pun intended—venture down that path! I loved this newsletter issue.
“Don’t look at the peak.” Great line!
And as someone who tried bouldering this month (a few minutes of grueling effort spread over an hour-long visit; still nursing a sore wrist) I chuckled at this post!
All true. I've done a climbing wall once - terrifying but exhilarating. And you say, all concentration has to be on what you're doing, step by step. Writing has to be done in the same mindset but boy is it difficult to achieve
You sent it, Mason.
So so good, Mason.
You metaphor is so fitting. Craft is everything. I am a beginner flint knapper. And you do a lot of staring at the piece of chirt in your hand before striking. The angle, the force, must be weighed carefully--which is--it sounds like--very similar to bouldering. And writing. Thank you for this!