Direction(less)

Reluctant to unwrap my hands from the steaming cuppa they were clenching; gray, misty, cold in Portland this afternoon which is not unusual except the cold feels as if it has changed from a brisk Fall crispness to the hint of a bone chilling Winter waiting just around the next sunrise. I have been struggling with both direction and directionless intent in my writing this week. Its presenting itself in writing papers academically as well as everything of a fiction nature. The direction is there, somewhere, hiding in the recesses of my increasing befuddled mind but its so difficult to put it into words on a paper or screen. Even worse, when the words finally present themselves they go either no where or everywhere. Isn't there a road map somewhere? The short story class I am taking has been reading Raymond Carver. His dialogue is effortless and organic; as a reader you are a silent participant in the conversations taking place. From the biographical reading, it is clear he worked very hard to achieve this easy, natural voice. But, its also clear he had a natural gift which he coaxed and nurtured. His stories are not complicated and the characters he creates are people we have all known. I wonder if he ever felt he had words he could not direct to the end he wanted to achieve?Well, at least I have words that want to go somewhere, I guess as opposed to having no words looking for a road map. Direction and directionless; a curse and gift all at the same.