I have the great good fortune to live in a quiet little place that overlooks a small pond located in southern Maine. From my window overlooking the water, I have watched the seasons unravel, birds and squirrels frolicking, and even a bald eagle once touching down on the snowfield that the pond is transformed into in winter, cocking its great proud white head to listen for fish bubbling just below the ice. Today, the water is still, calm, and smooth as glass, creating a perfect mirror image of the pines and denuded oak trees growing on the little island opposite this shoreline.
As I look out across it, I find yet another metaphor for the writing process in how the water creates an exact and perfect, albeit reversed and slightly distorted, image of what lives above it. Similarly, writing is a reflection of the author’s experiences. Still and smooth one day, rippled and abstract the next, and often the switch comes without warning as the creative winds start to blow all the words about, shaping and reshaping them over and over again until they ultimately come to rest in their final configuration.
But one truth is constant: it is always a reflection, as though the writer himself or herself were standing at the pond’s edge and looking down into the water. For the face staring back is not just a face but a record of all the writer has seen, experienced, and felt, and that is later transferred to paper or screen. In this way, all writing is not only reflection but the very act of reflecting itself.
What a nice thought…that of possessing one of the very qualities and abilities that water does. And how nice to think that we understand each other so well!
Get a glimpse of my reflections by visiting my Amazon page at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JJ259DS