Starter thought: Aren't epiphanies simply the acceptance of something you've known a long time, but are only now acknowledging, due to a confluence of myriad factors?

There was a time in one's teens, when one believed that the gift of the gab, and the hint of potential in writing style, could lead effortlessly to the seduction of the pretty sister. Poetry. One tried, but mostly the words seemed insipid. Matters weren't helped by one's refusal to edit what was written. And matters weren't helped at all by all the musings, questions, and general despair evoked by wondering what to write about.

Standard teenage story.

But one day, one stopped. To the considerable relief of many friends. One decided that -
a) Since one wasn't genuinely trying to be a Poet, one should not attempt Poetry, or even, poems.
(b) One decided that one could do without the general cloud of despair that picking up a pen seemed to bring hurtling from the horizon.

So one went back to creating phraselets, and catchphrases, and charming all and sundry with one's felicity for words. Let those who genuinely treat it as an art form, write Poetry, so one said.

And for a long time, one stayed away. And from writing in general. One even resisted the blog scene for years. But one restarted, eventually. Because one felt like it. And it's been fun.

But the talk was about epiphanies.

And the one that one had, was that one is not a Poet. Or, indeed, is not trying to write Poetry. One does not brim forth with imagery-filled verse, and one does not see oneself sitting and typing and re-typing and deleting and editing words just to create that perfect couplet. One does not intend to make this a career, nor does one feel this to be a calling.

The occasional non-prose that one produces, is literally, a thought in flow. It is not pre-thought of, it is not worked upon, it is not going to be continuously edited into better shape (just a little bit, perhaps).

It is not a creation. It is a reaction. Some of it may be good, but then that's because one's writing is somewhat good (does one seem the type to be modest?).

That was the epiphany - that one is not driven to create a delightful piece of verse, which can be quoted down through the ages. One is quite content to simply, write. One no longer need feel awed by Falstaff, or Space Bar, or the Aimless Wanderer, because one isn't on the same road. And that makes it all so much simpler.

So, avoid the literary criticisms. Lavished praise, is always welcome though.


DoZ said...

Hear, hear! I for one am happy to read whatever non-poetry you chose to write.

??! said...

merci, mon ami.

Revealed said...

Tsk! Who sez literary criticism is reserved only for serious poets? Do I not criticize Rowling's style of prose continually? Do I not tear apart Boyzone's lyrical attempts at the drop of a hat? So, again, one feels it is one's responsibility (as a no-nonsense scientist, that is) to point out that there is an obvious illogicality here, m'dear one. Do try and guard against it.

And FYI, I have already dealt with the epiphany conundrum and come up with a much better theory than you could ever dream of. Ever heard of the think-string theory?

Szerelem said...

Why all the drama? Just write and we shall read :P

??! said...

bring 'em down to earth in ishtyle! such nice commenters. that did reek a bit of indulgence, n'est pas?

@flaffy: please to share. one is fascinated with theories that revolve around strings.

@szer: one shall, one shall.

Revealed said...

Read and marvel, O mere mortal.

??! said...

one is suitably awed and humbled.