The Unfinished File
Half written poems in a file -
unfinished thoughts within -
there to consult once in a while
when inspiration's thin.
I return to odes once started,
and neurons re-ignite;
from efforts once halfhearted
I can gain fresh insight.
A single word might catch my eye
to percolate a thought
that makes my pen 'cross paper fly
until the verse is caught.
Thus scribbled bits I jot in haste -
disjointed lines of rhyme -
will very seldom go to waste;
they all evolve in time.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, February 21, 2018
I've come to the conclusion that most creative people - writers, poets, artists, crafters and makers of all kinds - are a bit hard on themselves. Prone to what's dubbed "artistic temperament" we're apt to feel considerable frustration when a project that we once started with great enthusiasm and high hopes just...fizzles out...
We all have that file, or that corner, or that room - the place we store our half finished creative endeavors. I used to stash away those scraps of paper, the ones that held a few lines of poetry, in furtive haste -and largely forget about them. Always a bit hard on myself, I saw those unfinished verses as a testament to my failure - failure to stay on task and see things through to completion.
While I was packing up my old house - before my big move to a small town - I found what I secretly thought of as my file of shame. And because packing was miserable work - that I needed a momentary reprieve from - I gave the contents a quick perusal.
To my amazement I was pretty excited about what I found. There was definitely food for thought among those pages, and I vowed I'd keep that file handy in the future and revisit it more often. I don't think of it as my file of failure anymore; no - now it's been re-categorized as "Inspirational Resource Material".
I keep that file in my kitchen - on the shelf with my cookbooks. It seems like the perfect spot. After all, when my tongue craves a new meal I consult those cookbooks, and if I find a recipe that appeals to me I amass the ingredients and try it out. Sometimes I re-work the recipe considerably in order to accommodate the palates of the household - and the food allergies of the husband! The completed recipe might not be what its creator intended it to be, but (generally speaking) I often manage to turn it into a reasonably good addition to my culinary repertoire.
Now my unfinished poetry file serves the same purpose as those cookbooks. I flip through it whenever my brain can't quite get a new idea off the ground. Sometimes I find exactly what I'm craving among my scattered scribblings and execute the poem exactly as I originally intended it to be. (That doesn't happen often, so when it does I feel like I've accomplished quite a creative feat and give myself a mental high five.) I've come to the conclusion that my mind just got ahead of me when that poem was started - the verse needed a bit more time to rattle around in my subconscious before it could find its way to paper.
More often, I find an old idea - or even a word or two - that triggers a whole new poem. I play around with "the ingredients" - the thoughts, ideas, or phrases - on the scrap of paper I've selected until I find a combination that suits my literary palate. And Voila! Out of the confusion of the half formed thoughts and random rhymes in my file a new poem comes to life!
So - this blog post is a big shout out to all the makers who leave things half-made. Be kind to yourself, my creative friends. Your unfinished projects are not failures! They shouldn't be kept to remind you of what you couldn't finish, but to inspire you to consider what you will finish later. Once the creative dust has settled and your brain has had a chance to work out the kinks that left you snafu-ed during that first attempt, you will be able to turn those bits into something that satisfies your creative cravings - take encouragement from a poet who has re-constructed some pretty strange lines into verses that I'm now happy with - and even proud of!
Keep those unfinished efforts handy, and re-visit them often. One day you'll surprise yourself by putting it all together - perhaps as you'd originally intended, and perhaps in some bold new way that you haven't even dreamed of - yet.
Art emerges when it's ready.
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