Writing Workshop Excerpts

The Creative Force Workshop, Sunday March 10, 2013
Facilitated by Saskatoon Library Writer-in-Residence David Poulsen

For inspiration, participants in this workshop at the Mendel Art Gallery used Stephen Hutchings’ paintings, in the exhibition Landscapes for the End of Time, and Olivier Messiaen’s music, Quartet for the End of Time. These are some excerpts from their work.

I seek beauty in the particular. Is that reflected shore, one that I know? The overhanging branch disguises its belonging – no leaf to claim individuality. The light on the river draws my eye. I want to be there, not in some romantic scene, but in the uncomfortable reality of wind, insects, roots and rain. Only then, will time stand still for me, as all my seasons multiply, one upon the other. Then, the urgency of everyday preoccupations can fall away. The smell of wood smoke will call me back to company indoors. Inside, landscape will once again be contained by windows, and the terrors of nature diminished.

© Margaret Woloshyn
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There was a brief discussion on sources of creativity or what inspires one to write. One participant said, it is an emotional response to a reading or a visual experience or a personal experience. Another said, being in tune with your surroundings is an important thought-generator and source of creativity. My suggestion was that perhaps one should just let the mystery be, and get on with the writing. Maybe, Popeye the Sailor man said it best – “I yam, what I yam.”

© Lyle Elmgren
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The noisy, piston-driven, carbon spewing, winged craft lifts me from the lake and the clutches of earth. I am free, unbound as I understand what my instructor meant when he told me, “Flying is not a pastime; it’s not even an occupation. It’s a disease. Once you’ve got it, there’s no cure. You have to do it. Even when you discover that it’s really just long hours of boredom, interrupted by moments of sheer panic, you have to continue.”

© Jerry Hammersmith
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Here, in the crotch of this giant oak, her canopy, a tent cover to me,
Tiny streaks of golden sun skip across my soul’s naked ribs like piano keys,
And she breathes softly, a shield against my fears.
© Joan Hammersmith

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Am I
No more
Is this the path? –
Where we planted hopes
And dreams.
Together chasing wishes.
Blessed memories,
Of stories untold and filled up voids.
Blessed memories,
Together chasing wishes.
And dreams.
Where we planted hopes
Is this the path? –
No more
Am I
Alone

© Denise Stilling