Going Thoreau

Pond. Woods. Cabin. Pen. Paper. Laptop. Me, and piles of unfinished writings. (Right. Thoreau didn’t have a laptop, much less electricity. So let’s call it a modern-day female Thoreau of sorts.) Wind whipping through red-budded trees, ducks squawking, late afternoon sun bouncing off royal blue water, star-studded nights and a deer (or three or four) to greet you at your door. Some fresh space for the muses.

Of course I wasn’t really alone. Aside from the ducks and deer (and, apparently, bears), there were plenty of other characters for company – a couple of boys and girls, some angels, and monsters, a flying horse here and there. There were real-live actual people too, nearby but not too near, and no one making a ruckus. No cars zipping by, no leaf-blowers or tv’s blaring. Laundry could wait, dishes were few, regular life paused. Except I did miss our cats sitting on my work. (I think?)

So, that was my five-day gift to myself – a mini back-to-nature answer to the incessant chatter of works undone while I’m otherwise busy designing things like branding and book covers for my wonderful clients. A cabin in the woods. A room with a view. Pen and paper. It was both enough and not enough. Is there ever enough time, though?

We do what we can when we can with what we have – then grab on and go.

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Drunk on Writing

Maybe this explains the obsession. The compulsion. The “have to” about writing.

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Some of you know the feeling. Some don’t. And if you don’t already have the affliction, you probably won’t catch it. Like many things, it’s probably inborn, a matter of physics ~ how one’s electrons, protons and neutrons are arranged, pushing and lighting the way towards pen and paper (or keyboard). But wherever it comes from, I think it’s more an innate “must” than an out-and-out escape route from reality (although that can be a nice side effect) ~ after all, by nature, the act of writing is a private affair primarily between yourself, your muses, and usually a good thesaurus.

You can certainly learn to write. You may feel inspired to write. You may have a love of language. You may have things you want to say. Even if not unmistakably inclined, you can become a decent writer.

But if you don’t feel compelled, if you don’t want to write, if it’s a burden or a chore, if you don’t feel like you’re not breathing properly until you write ~ then you probably don’t have writer’s curse, in which a life without writing is an impossibly awful imagining.

As for me, I’ll take another round as long as I can assemble sentences. It’s a good kind of drunk. And I’m sure glad there are others who feel the same way, or what a dry world it would be.

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Book Magic

Books are a uniquely portable magic.” ~ Stephen King

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While you won’t get me to admit to their coming off the page and plopping themselves on the chair beside me, I do often feel attached to the illustrations I’m creating. The ones that really speak through me can even have names. (yes, it’s true ~ please don’t judge me).

This little guy, the one in the grass on the book up there, is one of my favorites. He makes me smile. I smiled all the while “bringing him to life” ~ and that’s what happens. There’s some kind of unspoken dialogue that goes on between the artist, the ethers, the pencil and the page. The same when writing ~ characters can feel very much alive. There’s a thin line between real and imagined, and a spark that alights.

It’s that inexplicable sparkle of energy that usually results in the best work. You’re tuned in. Engaged. It flows. That’s the best. Even better … is if that energy translates for the reader. There’s the real magic.

Books open so many doors and windows ~ I can’t fathom a life without them; without stories and all their pains and glories and hilarities and knowledge and mystery. They teach, they excite, they take us to a thousand lands and lead us to wander and wonder and think and feel. They make us richer.

(And who knows if a happy goblin might not spring up from the pages sometime? Or maybe we’ve forgotten how to see them… :  ) )

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A Plethora of P’s / #56: Postcards

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

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Postcards! Snippets of our lives captured with a picture and a few friendly words that tell someone we’re thinking of them. Except now… with instant email access from almost anywhere in the world, pictures arriving within seconds on our cell phones and exotic places available daily on tv, handwritten postcards are near extinction, relegated to “nostalgia”.

There was a time when it was a treat to send something in the mail from faraway places ~ maybe India or Paris or Jamaica, or from a child at summer camp “a million miles from home” ~ and just as much a treasure to receive.

Now, we’re home before the card. Or we’ve skyped from Finland. Or we’ve shared our stories on Facebook. The postcard is old news.

But this is also true: there isn’t one of us who doesn’t harbor a secret wish for a real letter in the mail. A real birthday card, a real thank you card, a real postcard. With real words written with a real pen by a real live bona fide human being who took the time to write … to you! There’s nothing that says “I’m thinking of you” more than a hand-written or hand-typed note. If you aren’t convinced, watch the sparkle in the eyes of a kid growing up on electronic communication when they see a real envelope in the real mailbox addressed to their very own name.

So maybe, just maybe, the new beauty of sending a card is actually its “novelty” all over again. And maybe, just maybe, the thoughtful, simple act of writing a note won’t go the way of the dinosaurs, not yet, not 100% completely.

By the way, if you didn’t know, it’s National Postcard Week this week. Every day, all week. So send some love out there!

(Of course, I happen to know about an awesome postcard book…!  [forgive the brazen self-promotion] If you haven’t gotten one yet, my publisher has created an e-card set-up this week in honor of National Postcard Week, so you can send a smile to a friend for free. Nice!)

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Creative Duets & Human Nature

The human mind is a minefield of creativity and brilliance.

A couple years ago, inspired by Donald Friedman’s acclaimed book “The Writer’s Brush: Paintings, Drawings, and Sculpture by Writers”, I began to look more at artists who write and writers who draw and/or paint ~ creative people who are known for excellence in one art form, but also have credibility in another. Sometimes the second is overshadowed, or completely overlooked, due to the prominence of the first, but it’s interesting to see dual talents exposed.

"Palm of Creativity" / © Patricia Saxton

I love the topic. But it got my thoughts bubbling. …  As I see it, there have always been artists who cross mediums. Artists who write, writers who dance, dancers who sing, singers who paint, poets who play the saxophone.

It’s as if all these outlets arise from one great vat of creative expression.

So it makes sense to me that individual creativity, more often than not, spills from one medium over into another. It’s probably far less common to find a musician without a drop of interest for painting, or an artist with no stirrings of choreography running through their mind.

At the same time, it seems to be human nature to categorize or label: He’s a writer. She’s a dancer. He’s an artist. She’s a pianist. Just the way someone is a carpenter, or a doctor, or an accountant.

Yet none of us are one-dimensional. We arrive packaged with multi-faceted interests, talents, skills, propensities. I never understood why some feel the need to box people in to one “thing” or another, to say they “are this” or they “are that”. But to answer my own question, I suppose it helps frame the individual, helps us see them in some logical way.

In reality it isn’t always logical. There may well be strong leanings – creatively, mechanically, scientifically, etc. But there are also lawyers who paint, writers who fix cars and accountants who sculpt.

It starts early. There are “good kids” and troublemakers. Cheerleaders and jocks, geeks, nerds and rebels. Later your career choice defines you. Or your mate’s career choice. Or your kid’s career choice. There’s some real pigeon-holing that goes on. But we are all so much more!

We’re all fascinating, creative beings – whether writing, painting, solving crimes or tending the sick, cooking, singing, crunching numbers, building engines or raising livestock.

Sure, it’s flattering, that someone who writes and paints and draws is considered somehow unique. But I don’t agree that it’s so unusual ~ I believe that every single one of us has gifts that overlap. Maybe they’re not as easily defined, or maybe just not as romanticized, but they’re there ~ awesome, mysterious and immeasurable.

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"52 Weeks of Peace" Notebooks

More ways to inspire peace . . .  by popular request, “52 Weeks of Peace” journals are available for the writers, artists and doodlers in your life.


Journals are 5X8″ with 160 pages for composing, scribbling and sketching to your heart’s content. You even get a choice of papers (blank, lines, dot grid or task/organizing)………….. Grab a pen and let the muse flow!  (Or toss it in your “52 Weeks of Peace” Totebag if you’re on the go… good idea, right?)

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Writing & Reading: Alive or Dead?

I recently got on my high horse during a conversation about the craft of writing: the debate basically being whether writing and reading are alive or dead, whether we’re becoming/nurturing a breed of illiterates who can only function in 140 characters or less, a world of tweeters and soundbites. Let’s just say the topic sparked my interest.

It’s certainly becoming obvious that peoples’ attention spans in general seem to be shrinking into tiny little boxes, needing – or only able – to hear just what’s essential in as few syllables (and often as few individual letters) as possible … and while this may be due in part to information age overload and everyone’s time being filled up the wazoo, it can still be cause for concern. Are we losing our readers and writers?

I think not (and surely hope not). Those who love to write, write – they can’t NOT write. And those who love to read, read. I don’t believe that’s gone, nor will it be in the near future. The method through which they read and write may evolve, but the art will not die. It might be something as ancient as humanity: an inner sense or desire for storytelling. Soundbites just won’t cut it in that realm; they’ll never be as satisfying as a full story.

All my life I’ve been one of those who feels a compulsion to write. But I learned early on that not everyone shares that interest, skill or passion for writing, and have personally come to terms with that being “the way it is”.

Consider this: well before the advent of tweets and twits, brief emails, or the computer itself, writing was often preempted by a phone call. Before telephones, maybe there were the full-blown multi-page letter-writers, and the postcard-sending types. So it might just be that there have always been “pockets” of those who are simply more inclined toward the written word.

Newspapers and magazines may be going out of business, the publishing world may be in flux, but there’s still a thirst for the written word across all age groups. And what’s more, I think there’s room for both tweeting and writing …as long as they don’t confuse one as the other!

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All a-Twitter

… thoughts for the uninitiated tweeter

Twitter, Tweeting, Tweetchat, and Twerbose (my new favorite). It’s all the rage and has folks everywhere, well, all a-twitter.

I’m just getting my Twitter legs, but already I can see that it’s a pretty cool tool.

It took me a while to fully climb on board this latest and insanely popular networking train. I was among the many reluctant people who “don’t get it”, but still feel intrigued – or societally pressured – to find out what it’s about.

It can easily be seen as another time-waster, another thing on the to-do list, and for what purpose? And there’s the bit about “following” people, and they in turn following you, which basically means you can see what they’re up to via small word chunks. But really, besides friends and family, who honestly cares what I did today, or what I’m thinking or what I had for lunch?

Then folks began using it for business. Which made me wonder how anyone gets their work done between blogging, tweeting, linked-in-ing, facebook-ing, plaxo-ing and the scores of other online ways to connect.

Turns out though, it’s not the great intrusion I thought it might be. It’s actually a valid resource, as well as a way to expand contacts tremendously and easily. It’s a very open, uncomplicated place.

You can make short announcements, write brief words of wisdom, share a website, a book, a video – whatever is on your mind. You can use it to promote, learn, grab an idea. See what the President is up to. Receive inspiration. Chime in on tweetchats of interest. All very quickly. Because it caters to “soundbites” (small bits of info), it doesn’t take much time to update or to scour through others’ tweets.

Of course, you can ignore it, too. Up to you.

But one thing is for certain, tweeting is evolving. What started as a social mechanism has also become a business medium and a news medium. There are new uses being created by Twitter users all the time – which makes it feel very alive and adaptable.

Signing up is about as painless as it gets. Jumping in is a piece of cake. It’s what’s happening. And it’s actually pretty tweet.

http://twitter.com/saxtonstudio

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A Matter of Words

I love words. Written words. Not everyone has this kind of voracious appetite for words, and I understand that a lot of people would rather talk, or hear words, than read or write them. Maybe it comes with breeding, or DNA. But for those of us who love writing, it’s like breathing; you feel compelled to do it.

As a child, if I wasn’t drawing, I was writing. That pretty much still holds true. I love to write … letters, stories, poems, thoughts – all of it. I love the possibilities offered up with each new ripple of intermingling letters. I like the rhythm and the play of sounds that create a sentence. I love how words flow on a page, how they fall or jump, dance or hum, whisper or smack. I like how they all come together to make sense of something.

I also like that there are thousands of words available to pick from. And I like games where you find as many words as you can from one larger word. I like making words in scrabble. Words are fun.

But I also have a deep respect for words. Spoken or written, they are reflections of thought capable of moving people to personal greatness or ruin, to love, or even war. They can calm, or outright bore. They can repulse or inspire. In a split second, the words we choose to use can hurt just as easily as heal.

Some may argue that words are just talk; words are insignificant. That actions speak louder, I do agree. And true enough, not every word uttered will have the impact to captivate, bring laughter round the world or poison a soul. But I believe that even our everyday language carries far more weight and influence than we realize.

It’s important to be careful with our words; to be mindful of what we say. Maybe to “watch your mouth” as your mother might have said. To take even just a moment before speaking to check the thought.

Whether you love words or not, the world would do well with more respect for the power words can hold.

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