On Writing

Art and Determination Versus

I woke up early, wrote morning pages and the daily 1,000 word essay after scrambled eggs. Finishing the essay, I enjoyed fantastic flares of ideas for this daily blog commitment bursting one after another, each more exciting than the last. A fresh cup of hot coffee steamed nearby.

Then I made a fatal error. I checked email.

Scrolling through messages, I read an exceptional, heartstopping essay by Delia Ephron. Forwarded by a fellow writer, it grabbed me by the throat and reminded me why I write. In contributing ideas to a discussion within our group, I braided brand new idea strands into a coherent story.

Message sent, I returned to the idea flares from earlier. “I’m back!” I called into the playrooom.

Pitch black, dead quiet.

Luckily, I remembered a few spectacular visions. I could salvage something out of one of them. I scribbled idea nuggets into a new William Morris-patterned notebook.

And then I stared at them. Dead quiet. No new flares, no shocking and fun leaps between ideas, nothing.

So, this afternoon I planted begonias. While I tucked plants into their new homes, burbles percolated and sparks burst at the horizon. Watering them deeply even though rain is forecast, I felt ideas approaching, meshing, talking among themselves.

A tiny one giggled and asked, “Did you plant the begonias so that the mean guy couldn’t take them?”

Here’s the piece by Delia Ephron for your reading pleasure:https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/27/opinion/sunday/delia-ephron-love-leukemia.html?_r=0


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