Rosenberg’s critique shifted the emphasis from the object to the struggle itself, with the finished painting being only the physical manifestation, a kind of residue, of the actual work of art, which was in the act or process of the painting’s creation.
Action Writing?
So, my novels are residue? I’ll take that. I’ll take whatever outside external definition comes with putting them out there. Because they are no longer mine.
The process that got them out there. That’s mine.
That is why the above line stayed with me. It stayed with me long enough that I had to drag my ass back to my blog and get it out of my system.
You see, I value the process of writing way more than the result. Sitting down to write is NOT my process though. In fact, as I’ve said before in this space, by the time you do that, its’ already too late.
It’s not that I don’t mind sharing my novels and novella and blog and all that with the world. The physical manifestation, the residue, is something I am quite proud of. But it is not what I value, or why I write.
So why do I write? Because I love the process. The action of it all. The journaling, the yoga, the mediation, the hours on the front porch reading, the attention and intention it brings to my mind and the thoughts I find there as I drive, garden, or chop radishes.
Action writing is more mental than the painting. I mean right now I’m in my jammies on my porch a cup of coffee on my table, the rising sun poking through the tress lining my street. But I love it. The books are for you to love. Or not.
This process, the actions that bring me here are what produces the books, are what I get out of the whole thing.
Coffee Novelist 