A Match is Struck: on Writing the Present
Cardinal fire: immediacy, fire, creativity.
____________________________________
Once, an acquaintance told me that the best approach to buying a gift was to find the nicest version of the simplest thing you could afford. That could be a bunch of wildflowers, or a lipstick, or a jar of pickles. It could be a diamond ring. Whatever your budget, this was better than reaching beyond your means or buying a cheap version of something you thought you should be able to afford. This person was financially comfortable, but hadn’t always been, and this had stuck with him.
I followed this advice when I was on a strict budget and invited to people’s houses for dinner or parties, opting to bring a nice jar of olives, homemade lemon and thyme cordial, or expensive crackers, instead of cheap wine.
I was bought a beautiful box of matches for my birthday. There was something about the practical luxury of these matches that reminded me of that advice from the long-ago acquaintance.
They came in a pleasingly square box, with gorgeous graphic design. The matches are long and sturdy, they don’t sputter, and can be held for some time without the flame creeping towards my fingers. There is something deeply satisfying about having the right tools for a job - and these are perfect for ritual practices.
Unlike the click of a lighter, a match creates a suspended moment in time. The weight in the hand, the sound of the strike, the little fire glowing, and the curl of extinguished smoke.
By the time the candle is lit, I have moved from a scattered state into a calm one. There is only the moment.
In prose storytelling, fiction and nonfiction, it can be difficult to convey that state of immediacy, though poets do this instinctively. In narrative writing, the focus is often on the future – obtaining a goal or escaping harm – or the past – learning a secret or avenging a wrong. It can be hard to write immediately, in the moment, and savour what is happening now.
What would happen to your writing if you took a scene, or a character, and wrote into the present? If you had them slow down, and exist in the moment between a match being struck and extinguished, or the space between a gift being offered and received? What sensory experiences might be lingered on? What emotions might be consciously registered that otherwise feel swept into the action of the story?