Peak Experiences
In 1970, Abraham Maslow, anxious to demystify religion, coined the term "peak experience." The dictionary now defines it as:
a high point in the life of a self-actualizer, during which the person feels ecstatic and more alive and whole than is usual.
Maslow believed these peak experiences were transient moments--glimpses we have of a higher ectasy, of a union with the world. And he believed all of us could have these moments, and that those of us who attain self-actualization achieve them for extended periods of time.
So, I was thinking about this last night. And I have to say that all four births of my children were what I call peak experiences. The moment I heard them cry, this fulfillment of nine months of morning sickness, bloated belly, aches and pains and cravings and kicking (and I loved being preganant, so it may SOUND like I didn't enjoy those nine months, but trust me, I did). And every once in a while, I try to recall those moments, to just for a minute pull back into that time. There truly is nothing in the world like the doctor placing this wet, sticky baby on your chest, skin ot skin, for the first time. You count the ten fingers, and the baby grasps your index finger. Each of mine quieted the moment I held them. In Demon Baby's case, that was probably his last still moment.
Now here's where it relates to writing. It's almost impossible to conjure. A peak experience is such an extraordinary moment in life, that has such deep meaning for YOU, that it's difficult to relive in memory, and words fail. I have heard MANY a man try to liken passing a kidney stone to labor. All I can say guys, is NO. It's nothing like labor. Nothing. Now, let me say that I have AWFUL, high-risk, extended labor stories. Oldest daughter was 24 hours of labor, I spiked a fever, complications (she was turned the wrong way); oldest son weighed nearly 10 pounds--do the math pushing that baby out; Baby Girl was 24 hours of labor and a couple of hours of pushing--all with a catheter inserted in my heart (very high risk, that one!), and Demon Baby? Well, don't even get me started. But the entire time, there is all this pain and yet all this anticipation. The woman is aware that no, I am NOT pushing out a kidney stone, but another soul that will be forever entwined with my own. And I have never for a moment wished men did all the labor and hard work of carrying a child for nine months. In fact, I feel sorry for them--it's that awesome (at least for me it was).
So last night, I realized that writing, for me, is as tantalizing as a peak experience. When I have a scene in my head, I see it, full realized. The difficulty--the enormous difficulty--is somehow getting it down on paper so that others can share it. It's never as fully realized as in my head, it is never easy to conjure. Someone who reads my books can say, "I could totally picture this scene or that one"--but I know they can't possibly share my vision.
It's a frustrating thing.
Anyone else struggle with conjuring your visions into the written word?
a high point in the life of a self-actualizer, during which the person feels ecstatic and more alive and whole than is usual.
Maslow believed these peak experiences were transient moments--glimpses we have of a higher ectasy, of a union with the world. And he believed all of us could have these moments, and that those of us who attain self-actualization achieve them for extended periods of time.
So, I was thinking about this last night. And I have to say that all four births of my children were what I call peak experiences. The moment I heard them cry, this fulfillment of nine months of morning sickness, bloated belly, aches and pains and cravings and kicking (and I loved being preganant, so it may SOUND like I didn't enjoy those nine months, but trust me, I did). And every once in a while, I try to recall those moments, to just for a minute pull back into that time. There truly is nothing in the world like the doctor placing this wet, sticky baby on your chest, skin ot skin, for the first time. You count the ten fingers, and the baby grasps your index finger. Each of mine quieted the moment I held them. In Demon Baby's case, that was probably his last still moment.
Now here's where it relates to writing. It's almost impossible to conjure. A peak experience is such an extraordinary moment in life, that has such deep meaning for YOU, that it's difficult to relive in memory, and words fail. I have heard MANY a man try to liken passing a kidney stone to labor. All I can say guys, is NO. It's nothing like labor. Nothing. Now, let me say that I have AWFUL, high-risk, extended labor stories. Oldest daughter was 24 hours of labor, I spiked a fever, complications (she was turned the wrong way); oldest son weighed nearly 10 pounds--do the math pushing that baby out; Baby Girl was 24 hours of labor and a couple of hours of pushing--all with a catheter inserted in my heart (very high risk, that one!), and Demon Baby? Well, don't even get me started. But the entire time, there is all this pain and yet all this anticipation. The woman is aware that no, I am NOT pushing out a kidney stone, but another soul that will be forever entwined with my own. And I have never for a moment wished men did all the labor and hard work of carrying a child for nine months. In fact, I feel sorry for them--it's that awesome (at least for me it was).
So last night, I realized that writing, for me, is as tantalizing as a peak experience. When I have a scene in my head, I see it, full realized. The difficulty--the enormous difficulty--is somehow getting it down on paper so that others can share it. It's never as fully realized as in my head, it is never easy to conjure. Someone who reads my books can say, "I could totally picture this scene or that one"--but I know they can't possibly share my vision.
It's a frustrating thing.
Anyone else struggle with conjuring your visions into the written word?
Labels: peak experiences
posted by Erica Orloff at 7:03 AM
21 Comments:
Anyone else struggle with conjuring your visions into the written word?
Most writers I know, or know about, feel their words at best approximate their visions. One exception is Ayn Rand:
Too many writers declare that they never succeed in expressing fully what they wished to express and that their work is only some sort of approximation. It is a viewpoint for which I have never had any sympathy and which I consider excusable only when it is voiced by beginners, since no one is born with any kind of "talent" and, therefore, every skill has to be acquired.
As for men giving birth, let's just say---not to put too fine a point on it---THANK GOD THEY DON'T.
Hi Stephen:
I know as a writer what's "demanded" of me as far as conjuring visions to the page . . . but it's still something that feels ethereal to me and hard to put my hands around. And that Ayn Rand was a b****. LOL! (Just kidding . . .)
And . . . well, most men I know whine about a head cold, so yes, THANK GOD you all don't.
E
Something else: I agree with Joseph Campbell, who argued that every mother is a hero by virtue of her sacrifice and the risks she took giving birth.
Hi Stephen:
I never knew he said that . . . I tend to agree. I know what I went through with my four to bring them into the world. It also takes a healthy dose of optimisim to believe there is much in this world that is good and they can contribute to it.
E
I struggle all the time. I don't just have a vision, sometimes I get the words in my mind. Whole paragraphs as I'm away from pen and paper or computer. I know exactly what to say. Yet as soon as I grab a pen and paper to scribble down this brilliant flow of words, the faucet turns off. I'm lucky if I can remember a couple sentences.
But I still get that peak experience. Not all the time, but I love it when it happens. I write at night (and in the daytime--whenever I can). Sometimes I fall into bed lit up with a writing high, and it's hard to get to sleep.
Hi edie:
I have those can't sleep spells, too.
E
My writing is deeply affected by my hormonal cycle. Some days I just cannot, for the life of me, get down flowing story. It comes out in little spurts of sentences with big holes ... and that goes on for a week or so until I'm certain I've completely lost the ability to write. I see things clearly in my head, but not on paper.
Then, during other times of the month, everything flows. I can't see it in my head anymore, not as clear as I had during the non-writing phase. It's blurry. But when I sit down to write, each nano-second becomes vividly clear as I write on the screen. What I worried would be a 500 word scene suddenly blossoms into a 5,000 word scene.
I'm sure my stuff is just an "approximation" of my vision. Although, I like to not say some things, and trust the reader to feel them if I've put them through the experience. Does that make sense?
Anyway, both times of writing refuse to happen at once. And I can't call up which part I need. I'm completely dependent on my hormonal cycle, and that drives me batty.
Yep, I have those night time high experiences right along with you, Erica and Edie. In my head it's all gold.
Trouble is, it seldom translates the same way, even when I think I remember it the next morning. I can't decide if I have allusions of grandeur when I'm semi-asleep or if I just haven't learned to express it as well with words as I see/feel it in my head.
*raspberries* to Ms. Rand!
And I honestly mean no offense to the gentler sex, but if the baby carrying chore was to switch genders, I think the population would deteriorate immensely because I don't know if many men would serve the nine month sentence + the delivery twice. (and I also loved being pregnant, so I don't mean 'sentence' quite as liberally as it sounds)
Anyone else struggle with conjuring your visions into the written word?
Sure. I think Ayn Rand is wrong. I think it's ALWAYS an approximation, no matter the writer's level of skill. While we try to evoke images with words on a page, said images are never going to be exactly what we see in our heads. No matter how talented or skillful we are, each reader is going to walk away with something a little different from the experience.
That's one reason so many people say, "The book was way better than the movie." With a film, we're forced to see the collaborative visions of the original author, the screenwriter, the director, the actors, etc. Those visions very rarely match the ones in our heads as we read the novel.
Film and print are altogether different media, of course, and each has its advantages, but it's easy to see how drastically different one person's visions are from another when viewing an adaptation.
And I honestly mean no offense to the gentler sex, but if the baby carrying chore was to switch genders, I think the population would deteriorate immensely because I don't know if many men would serve the nine month sentence + the delivery twice.
Twice? Hell, I wouldn't do it once. If men got pregnant I'd practice infinitely eternal celebacy. Except, of course, with Rachel Weisz.
Hi Spy:
My writing and weariness in general is definitely subject to how much sleep I get, hormones, etc.
E
Hi Lainey:
I think that when it's in our head, it's fluid and real, whereas on paper, you're committing it to a set order of words.
E
Jude:
Agreed. Totally different mediums.
E
stephen:
I've done it four times--and I'd have four more tomorrow if I could.
And if I was a lesbian, Rachel Weisz would be top on my list.
Sometimes I struggle to get the visions into words. If the scene is very important/intense/whatever, I want every word to be perfect. I want the reader to notice all the right details in my scene. I'm struggling with a couple of those right now.
But, there are other scenes where it just flows. When I write dialog, I'm basically hearing it as it happens and writing it down. I do very little editing/polishing on my dialog.
I remember a discussion with a group of co-workers once where one of the men and I were talking about a scene but we couldn't remember which movie it was in. The discussion went on for several minutes and we both had an almost identical memory of the scene. Then we realized we were thinking of a scene from The World According To Garp. I want my writing to be that good. That readers see the scene the way I see it and so clearly they mistake the memory for a movie.
Erica,
I wanted you to know I've given you a Roar for Powerful Words. You can visit my blog to find out more about the award.
Jen
Liz:
That's one of my all-time favorite books, and I probably would have been right there with you in the scene. :-)
E
Hi J.K.:
I am humbled. Thank you,
E
Peak Experiences are personal, and therefor not completely sharable with anyone else. In order to exactly share it, the reader would have to have the writer's exact background, points of view, beliefs and values... it is just not possible. Trying to recreate it on paper is just as impossible because there is a lifetime of backstory that has to be written just to bring the reader to a point where the experience could be meaningful. Then there is the problem of language being inadequate to convey the nuances of feeling exactly...
As far as the whole men-giving-birth issue... I have to take (mock) offense here. If men had the role of child-bearing then society, culture, roles and all of that would be completely different than what we now have. I do not think for a minute that we (men) would be unable or unwilling to meet the challenge.
Just my $.02, and now back to work.
Hi Ewoh:
Exactly. Which is how I feel when describing some scenes. They're just difficult to convey on paper. I feel inadequate.
E
P.S. I still say YOU try to pop out a ten-pound baby. ;-)
LOL... baby >= 8 lb. == c-section.
That would be my choice.
Post a Comment
<< Home