I have been thinking about what metaphors I use to describe my writing life, and this poem strikes me as one of those amazing turning points, where we realize how much we have to be grateful for.
These ten tweets from Joanne Harris were collected on Aerogramme Writers’ Studio yesterday (click on the link to go to them). They are so good, and such good reminders of my own practice, that I am compelled to share them with you, rather than just tell you all my own stuff, again. Write every day. Write for a short time if you don’t have a long time. Read like a fool.
“Don’t sit around waiting for the inspiration fairy to call. You can (and should) write without it.” You can follow Joanne (author of Chocolat and other books) on Twitter at at @Joannechocolat.
And happy writing in 2016.
(pic snapped at our local branch of Sno-Isle Libraries)
“God preserve us from writers who regurgitate what they have learnt from books! It is people’s secrets we want to know — it is the natural history of the human heart that we have been trying to put down for a thousand years and everyone must and can leave their contribution.”
AUGUST STRINDBERG
Many presents under the tree. Days (and even weeks) of anticipation, and then the bonanza Christmas morning — the joys (and chaos) of having three daughters, all home for the holiday.
And this lovely quote from Advice to Writers in my email in-box. So perfect.
Merry Christmas to you!
I came across this poem misattributed to another David in a book I’m reading (a book I otherwise love). So I looked it up and found it on the web with typos, mistitled, etc. But it also appears (correctly) on Best American Poetry.
The whole process made me reflect on how mistakes can add emphasis in our lives, reminding us of where we are, and what our assignment is. The whole point is to stand still and pay attention. Take a deep breath. Look. Listen. Remember to breathe.
Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
— David Wagoner
(1999)