Noticing #sol18
March 31, 2018
Lily and I have the luxury of a walk this morning heading out to our woodsy trail. We haven’t been this way in quite some time impeded by snow for so long. Today spring is breaking through. Under foot wet soggy leaves make me hesitant, not Lily. She’s confident, leading the way. Twigs break under foot. My eyes drawn to the the trees overhead, noticing their raw wounds from recent storms. Tiny islands of snow crop up here and there, spring will not be denied now. Lily’s keen nose and sharp eyes notice far more than mine stopping her to smell a branch or rock, look out into the woods that surrounds us. My eyes are drawn to the brilliant green and subtle difference of the moss on every rock. The moss senses the change.
I notice myself composing as I walk, the silence opening up the words that flow across my consciousness. Small phrases worked over like smooth pebbles in a stream. Not quite right yet. Composing, switching phrases, juggling imagery. Would I have done this before? Would I have noticed like a wordsmith, like a chronicler, like a writer?
I am sharper, keener, more observant. Noticing more around and thinking more deeply about how I express myself, not just in my print, but in my words everywhere. Space for contemplation matters more and so I give it more generously. Thoughts have more space to grow, perhaps flourishing or lying in my notebook for other opportunities. Revising more, thinking about sentences days later and returning to change word order, clarity, tense seems common place now. Changed as a writer.
As I thinking more about writing, I consider more about teaching writing as well. Talking first, rehearsing. We did this before but it feels differently now, more like a sharing, a collaboration, joyful. Bringing what I’ve noticed to the daily practice of writing.
Last year, I composed in documents, careful, hesitant, concerned. Now my thoughts come and I begin to compose not caring if I discard them later. More will come. Just then, clarity. What I’ve learned, just like spring, more will come.
And just like that it’s over, day 31 of 31. I am forever grateful to my writing mentors, encouragers, and fellow journeyers in this the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers and the amazingly talented writers that curate that site not just during March but throughout the year. See for yourself at Two Writing Teachers.
Reflections from a Coach 
So powerful, the way you describe your growth. It’s been a wonderful month!
So interesting the way you use this slice to describe how you rehearse and come up with the words you choose. I especially love the imagery you create, like the sentence “Small phrases worked over like pebbles in a stream.” Here’s to the writerly life!
I really like how you connected emerging as a writer with the beginning of Spring…renewed life as a teacher who writes. Powerful stuff! Congrats!
What a lesson to have learned, the ideas will come. I’ve enjoyed reading them all. ❤️
I love the description of your walk and what you were noticing. SOL really is a journey. We grow so much from it.
‘Just like spring more will come.” That’s the spirit that comes from writing every day. I, too, think about composing during the day, and I, too, used to agonize over crafting a slice instead of letting it come to me as inspiration. I look forward to meeting you again on Tuesdays.
This is a powerful, reflective slice. I love how you shared thoughts of how you’ve changed as a writer and as a teacher of writers. Your second paragraph is especially beautifully written, and I also love this: “Space for contemplation matters more and so I give it more generously. Thoughts have more space to grow, perhaps flourishing or lying in my notebook for other opportunities. ” Yes!! Congratulations and happy writing!
Nice reflection! I see myself more as a chronicler, not enough like a crafter. #writinggoals Congratulation on a month well spent.
For the space of this slice you loan us your keen eyes, your attentive ear, and take us inside your writing mind. While there is plenty of activity there is also a remarkable sense of calm, of presence, of each moment unfolding. What a gentle way to close out the month of writing!
This is beautiful! The imagery and reflective description are so powerful, but for me this is the line, “..thinking more about writing, I consider more about teaching writing as well. ” As a literacy consultant, I always emphasize to teachers the power and value of living like a writer, as this makes us more authentic and effective. So glad you included this! It’s been great to be part of your community this March!
This is so well done. I have really enjoyed your posts! Thank you!
Such a powerful post – love “more will come.” So much to look forward to! I have loved reading your posts here. I was immersed in the description of your walk in the woods. So beautiful! Reflections offered here are deep and drew me in!
The analogies you weave through this slice remind me that writing, though hard, can come to feel natural — with all the cyclical potential that word contains.
This is gorgeous in every way – the craft, the pace, the meaning, the word choice. Your writing is so natural – I always hear your voice. I am always pushed to think. I am always inspired. I am always touched. Thank you for encouraging me, for allowing me to have two lives with you, and for helping me grow as a coach, a writer, and a person. Congrats!!
Clare
This is a lovely image of the woods, if your journey through this month. I wonder what kind of writer we’d all be if we noticed the way a dog notices. I can’t help but think about Thoreau and the need to go into the woods and return from the woods. I suppose slicing is a bit like that.
I’ll see you around—in TWT and on Twitter!
This was so beautifully written. You are truly living a writerly life!
What a softly beautiful slice. I’ve been thinking in similar metaphors about the opening and improved clarity of my mind’s eye as I’ve been walking the writing trail this month. You’ve captured it eloquently. I look forward to meeting you on the page throughout the year.
“More will come.” Such a line! The powerful imagery in the beginning drew me in. I felt I was right there with you on your walk, noticing.