Today I am distracted. Something has preoccupied me and slowed me down all day. On my way to the Starbucks after work, I thought about turning down the street towards home but then I remembered the word "discipline". That's what it's all about, right, doing something regardless of how you feel. It's a routine, something you train yourself to do again and again. Then one day it takes on a life of its own. It may not feel great or inspired, but the training continues. The work goes on. The creative muscles must be flexed and stretched and molded. The practice, the focus, the word searching, the cutting and pasting, it becomes a tonic and a structural support around which all else may fall away.
It all started with the YAWP Fall Writer's Residency at Fort Warden State Park, Port Townsend, WA. What started? I'm not sure exactly, but something, a change like a fire under my but. I'd been all worked up about work and then I went to the residency, a long weekend gathering of writers, of quiet and solitude or companionship to write and to share our writing or not as we so chose. Something clicked - the schedule. Every night from 7-8pm there was a one hour gathering to write, no sharing, no talking, just a gathering of people writing. We sat on folding chairs, rocking chairs, arm chairs, kitchen chairs, and couches arranged, roughly, in a circle. There was something powerful in that, something that said, "We can do this". It has been 2 weeks since the residency and every evening after work I stop at my neighborhood Starbucks for an hour and re-enact our evening gathering. I started a new job in June. I live 5 minutes away,...
Comments
Post a Comment