DR. LIDIA YUKNAVITCH GOES TO CHURCH

via otherppl.com

Lidia Yuknavitch spoke to Willamette Writers at the Old Church.

All three are resting well.

New rule: All posts start with a theme song reflecting the topic at hand. This one starts on the second verse.

New rule #2: Click the Lidia link. Here it is.

Little Feat’s Willin’ via lyricsmode.com:

“I’ve been kicked by the wind, robbed by the sleet
Had my head stoved in, but I’m still on my feet and I’m still… Willin’
Now I smuggled some smokes and folks from Mexico
Baked by the sun, every time I go to Mexico, and I’m still

And I been from Tuscon to Tucumcari
Tehachapi to Tonapah
Driven every kind of rig that’s ever been made
Driven the back roads so I wouldn’t get weighed
And if you give me: weed, whites, and wine
And you show me a sign
I’ll be willin’, to be movin”

Lowell George wrote Willin’. It sounds more like a writers journey than a song, especially the first verse.

After hearing Lidia Yuknavitch talk in downtown Portland it felt like her song.

There’s something unreal about women who take the hard road, do the work, and get to a place they call their own. That’s what I saw in the Old Church Tuesday.

People get to a certain age and attach new meaning to faded feelings. Writers call it internal research. Others call it living in reverse.

Then there’s a few who get to a certain age and burn hotter than ever.

Call it burning or smoldering. Call it an open gas can and stand back.

#

Growing up in the late ’60’s strained the dating scene in junior high school. Guys a few years older soldiered off to Vietnam and never came back.

Older brothers of guys like Paul Gammon and Brad Nyleen came out of it. Guys like David Ellefson and David Lentz didn’t. My name is David. I knew the score.

This was 7th and 8th grade, 1968 and 1969. Imagine 69 in the 8th grade. It seemed so perfect, except Vietnam created the need to know who you’d go to war for.

This was the question among the thirteen and fourteen year olds: Live for the night, or go long term?

Live for the night was holding hands; long term was a week of holding hands.

#

Early in her talk, Lidia Yuknavitch rolled out her vitals. And kept rolling. Author of a load of books, the books you saw in the top link, and here.

She’s part life story confessionist with a bio in wiki that makes Sylvia Plath’s Daddy look like an angel, and part grinder, a writer who gnaws experience to the gristle.

The lingering effect feels like a visitation where the ghost of Literary Future lights a new candle.

#

Remorse comes in all flavors; one is living through an era only to survive in the rubble. Talk about it too much and people say, “move on.”

You explain how far you’ve come, that you’re moving forward every day. If it sounds like the same old shit, that’s your problem, man.

Then no one says anything.

#

In a voice just this side of Janis Joplin’s ‘Cry Baby,’ Ms Yuknavitch revealed her writer’s secret: find a process and turn it into a habit.

Call it writing advice, call it life advice, either way look in the mirror and say you’ll trust the process.

Your process.

Cycle through what you feel, what you see, and re-cycle. Then repeat.

Driving the story you need to write further than you ever have reveals the real story.

Now you need to write that one. It’s time. Write ’em both.

Lidia Vuknavitch says you can do it. Won’t be easy, but you’re the only person who can do it.

Once you start digging you’ll find remorse. Keep digging until you find why.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bpyai-X3BgA