Posts about the writing life and the love of story
I was working on my book this weekend and was in a section where I needed to remember how I thought and behaved when I was in my twenties. I flipped through some papers and journals (yes, I’ve been writing down my thoughts for that frickin’ long!) and ran across something I wrote on February 9, 1982.
“When the storm broke, the world was changed. Flat rocks dotted the pasture with their damp shine, scattered on a hillside that looked like a mud finger painting.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver, “Flight Behavior”
Ah yes, drought… I survived February. But this papery-thinness is how it left me.
I dream of the day I wake up and words pour freely out of my head, I suddenly grasp depth of field and know how to perfectly operate all the settings on my camera, and I ride my bike effortlessly up a hill of slippery snow and zig zag through trees without holding my breath.
The great thing about striving to be a better writer is it forces me to actually do the “be in the moment” “be present” stuff, which I would struggle following through with otherwise.
Last week I took a couple days off so I could have a four day weekend to work on a few writing/get organized projects. For all the time I spent at my computer, I still felt like I got very little done.
