I don't actually know if it's any good, but that honestly doesn't matter. What matters is that I wrote. Whether or not there's anything to it, whether or not it's any good, it does give me hope.
And a writer's hope is dearly needed right now, amidst too much of the stuff of life.
In Leslie Pietrzyk's August 7 "Work in Progress" blog, she describes the experience of a former student of hers who has committed not to a period of time, or a successful story, but to the deceptively simple task of writing 200 words a day. 200 words.
The concept resonated deep inside. I could do 200 words a day. Before the gym, on my lunch hour, at night before bed. 200 words. I really could.
As I struggle with life, wedding, partnership, full-time writing job, and some small attempt to lose the 20 pounds I've gained in the past year, writing hovers like a mosquito -- a vixen-fairy -- just outside my ear. I whine and complain, and only, occasionally, feel the gift of inspiration.
But 200 words?
When the 200 words are an Edinburgh church visit shared by the narrator and the best-friend's husband she knows she loves? Now that's something to keep hope in play.
No comments:
Post a Comment