MOMENT of CREATION

by Rob Lopresti

You know what is the coolest thing about being a writer?

Well, maybe it’s winning the Nobel Prize for Literature. Jean-Paul Sartre would probably say it’s turning down the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Seeing your work in print is also pretty cool. And fan mail. But what rings my bell is that sudden staggering moment when you get an idea for a story.

Think about it. One moment there is nothing there and then – Pow! — there is. No wonder people invoke supernatural beings (muses) to describe it. No wonder non-writers ask us where we get our ideas and – ha! –expect sensible answers.

My object all sublime

The best dramatization of this phenomena I have ever seen was in the movie Topsy Turvy, which I highly recommend. It’s almost two separate movies with very different tones.

In the first half W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan are quarreling bitterly as they try to come up with a new opera to keep their theatre company going. The problem is that Gilbert insists on variations on a rather stupid plot about magic pills and Sullivan (quite sensibly) keeps rejecting it. The second half of the movie shows the development of their triumphant masterpiece The Mikado.

What ties these two parts together is the portrayal of an event known to every Savoyard (fan of G&S). We see Gilbert, unable to sleep, stomping around his house, frustrated by the impasse with his partner. A Japanese sword falls off the wall where it has been hung as a decoration. Gilbert picks it up (and in the movie he tries out a few fencing moves). We see an extreme close-up of Gilbert’s face (or rather, of Jim Broadbent, who plays him). He looks sleepy, frustrated, and angry.

His expression changes to one of wonder. Then a beatific smile of delight. And we are thrown into a scene of The Mikado,. as if the whole thing sprang out of his mind in that one glorious moment.

And that’s the way creation feels, at it’s best. Athena springing fully formed from the head of Jove. It is powerful stuff.

Singing the messenger

One day in late December I was listening to a concert and regretting the fact that I hadn’t written a song since October. I try to average one song a month, and I was way behind schedule. It happens like that sometimes.

The band was the Prozac Mountain Boys (gentle, uplifting bluegrass… ask your doctor if it’s right for you.) I don’t remember which song they were doing, but it was one of the infinite number of songs about truck-driving. “Six days on the road,” ‘I’m willin’,” “Water in my fuel,” etc.

And suddenly, I thought: What about a song like that about a tired, heroic, hardworking bicyclist? Out comes the notebook.

Well, I’ve got miles and miles ahead
I turn the wheels to earn my bread.
I’m rolling, rolling on up the road.

I got a job I mostly like
Cause I deliver on my bike.
I’m rolling, rolling on up the road.

Lots of contracts due today
Will race through town in my panier.
I’m rolling, rolling on up the road.

Whatever stops you need, I’ll make.
Here’s muffins for your coffee break.
I’m rolling, rolling on up the road

And so on. It’s not “I’ve got a little list,” or “Tit-Willow.” But it’s a start. And it wasn’t there until– pow! — suddenly, it was.

And so is this blog entry. Pow! I’ll stop saying that now. You’re welcome.