Out of Focus by Lynn J Simpson

"I challenge you not to hit the Delete button," my friend Richard said, leaning across the table. Glancing at my five other dinner friends, I could see them nodding in agreement. I looked down at the napkin laid neatly across my lap, white and blank, like the templates of my word programs. Not even a speck of a crumb.

I'd just been lamenting to my friends that I had writers block since mid-March. Since the day I decided to do an entry on my photography blog stating that I would be taking a break from posting photos as I needed to focus on my writing, I couldn't seem to keep words on a page, hitting the backspace button faster than I could type. Ha! Stopped shooting pictures and my writing stopped too, like a lens cap does to a camera. The picture was just not getting through.

I must confess though, I was beginning to get very critical of my photography. My pictures did not

seem to be as sharp as I wanted them to be, the clarity and depth of field out of reach of what my mind saw and what actually showed on my computer screen. So I would play with the tools to sharpen, to balance the colours, to crop and scale. And then have a picture quite different than the one I actually took. Good enough, I'd think, and post to the blog.

But feeling utterly disappointed with myself.

Yet the comments came. Comments on how I will be missed, that my photography was 'inspiring' and 'full of talent.' And how my words following each post that brought comfort and encouragement would be missed too.

Inspiring even though completely different than what my mind saw, what my critic said it needed to be, to be worth publishing.

Maybe it is time to take that lens cap off and let the picture lead itself, instead of me getting in the way.

And maybe it is time, like my friend Richard advised, to stop hitting the Delete key, and just let the writing flow. To get out of my own way and just let it be. And maybe, just maybe the first few shots at writing again will be out of focus in places. But that is okay.

'Cause I have the tools to bring it into focus again.

Does Atticism mean from the Attic? ..... Jocelyn Faire

There is a time for every Writing activity under heaven.

A time to write and a time to refrain from writing,

A time to read and a time to close the book, 

to read the world at large,

A time to listen, and a time to Be still and know that I am God

A time to try harder and a time to cease striving

A time for antonyms and a time for synonyms

A time for atticism and a time for simplicity

A time for writers argot and a time for common lingo

A time for questions, and a time for answers

A time for conundrums, and a time for the ho-hums

A time for letters and a time for numbers

A time for wide awake and a time for slumbers

There is a time to hold, and a time to be held

And a time to behold our God.

At times the words come slowly, at times like a rush

In season and out of season we ponder, and

There is a time to write, to right the confusion of life's ups and downs.    

When I find the season dry or when I try too hard,  I need to spend a time on soul refreshment ... usually in the form of Beauty.

Much of the stress and emptiness that haunts us can be traced back to our lack of attention to beauty. Internally, the mind becomes coarse and dull if it remains unvisited by images and thoughts which hold the radiance of beauty.

(Beauty: The Invisible Embrace—John O'Donohue)

Think of creativity as a spark, it needs a large stockpile of experience to ignite. If you do not open yourself up to life, then your creativity will just be a flash, and never a real fire.* (unknown)

* from the book 1001 Ways to Creativity by Arcturus Publishing 2013 

Atticism

\AT-uh-siz-uhm\noun

1. concise and elegant expression, diction, or the like.

2. the style or idiom of Attic Greek occurring in another dialect or language.

argot

\AHR-goh, -guht\noun 1. the special vocabulary and idiom of a particular profession or social group: sociologists' argot. 2. a specialized idiomatic vocabulary peculiar to a particular class or group of people, especially that of an underworld group, devised for private communication and identification Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking out of My Head? Grief as an out of Body Experience She blogs at:  http://whoistalking.wordpress.com