We go up to heaven and down to hell a dozen times a day – at least, I do. And the discipline of work provides an exercise bar, so that the wild, irrational motions of the soul become formal and creative.
– May Sarton in Journal of a Solitude
Seated in the corner of my office, I close the internet window
on my laptop and hunker down to write.
With just a half hour left before I leave to meet a friend for lunch, I ought
to have enough time to squeeze in my goal of 500 words for the day.
I need to write something for the week’s blog post and,
hopefully, for my newsletter too. Neither
need to be very long. The problem,
though, as I begin, is that, well, I don’t know where to begin. I don’t have a story to tell, not even the
faintest glimmer of an idea to explore.
I had a couple of ideas flitting around last week, but failed to capture
them and now one is stale, like bread left out overnight, and the other is
shrouded in fog too dense to be explored in this limited amount of time.
Still, I close the internet, sit in my chair, and
begin. . . . (pop over to author and editor, Andi Cumbo-Floyd’s place to read the rest of this piece). Leave me a message there, then take a few minutes to look around at all the lovely tools and supports for writers Andi has going on.
