Arranging the China / Do not Dissolve

Words, like tea sets, become physical objects. Something mathematical happens as I multiply, add, subtract and divide them until their arrangement creates more than the sum, or the effort is abandoned.

Arranging the China

Tiny crumbs of something gluten-free have hardened on the rim of a little blue– patterned plate. One of many small plates I’ve rescued from charity shops over the years, it nestles on my desk amid blooms of neon post-it notes, felt pens, receipts, notebooks and piles of white printer paper that signal ‘things to do’. 

The vintage colours of charity shop china reel me in; a sentimental weakness for unwanted, pretty things. Rescued tea sets fill a downstairs cupboard; its door swings open in the slightest draught, allowing them to wink and wave at me. They are so flirtatious, my porcelain refugees. 

Now and then, I lift them out of storage and to mix and match them, making small, creative wholes: this cup, that saucer, perhaps a plate from a higher shelf. In the same way, I take scattered ideas, resting in notebooks, and rearrange scraps of thought: descriptions, impressions, journal entries, forgotten ideas.  

Satisfying sentences are born from happy accidents of pairing, clustering, separating and spacing. Words, like tea sets, become physical objects. Something mathematical happens as I multiply, add, subtract and divide them until their arrangement creates more than the sum, or the effort is abandoned.

Do not Dissolve

Our little garden pushes up and out towards summer; that week in early March spent shovelling manure and planting is paying off. Physical labour brings a break from trowelling and forking words around the page. Digging blocks out abstract thinking and locks mind and body in simple coordination. 

Writing requires the body to dissolve but I don’t like mine to fade for too long. It must be freshly dug into the world, now and then. Renewed by rhythmic connection, my lifestyle of partial dissolving regains its purpose. Inspiration is fed through the roots.

 

Claire O'Brien is a prize-winning author of funny stories and fairy tales for children. She has been published by OUP, Orchard and Franklin Watts. Claire also writes about Buddhism and mid-life (Mudpiebooks). Currently, she is working on audio fairy tales and a fantasy novel for 7-12 years inspired by the fairy tales of Madame d'Aulnoy. She Tweets at @ClaireOBriennow.