A Writer's Notebook, Day Two-Hundred-And-Thirty-One
Some days it does still feel a bit like I am forcing myself to do the work. I mean, I do not immediately sit down and find a poem waiting, but I must, instead, wait until it appears. It is a matter, often, of patience: if I sit quietly and refuse to do anything but the writing, it will happen. This is a common thing for writers, I think: do not let anything distract you, but instead just be patient and do nothing until the writing happens. It is a matter, I think, of convincing the muse (for lack of a better term) that you are serious and will do the work. It is a test of sorts and the way to pass is through not flinching.
Knowing that is the real trick should make it a lot easier. I should just force myself to sit at the desk with a document open and wait, then just work and when I stop, do the same again. I am sure I would get to a point where that actually worked. Maybe I will do it one day, but for now, I am quite glad to be writing three or more poems a day. I think three has been the minimum of late, but I should keep better track of these things...
Knowing that is the real trick should make it a lot easier. I should just force myself to sit at the desk with a document open and wait, then just work and when I stop, do the same again. I am sure I would get to a point where that actually worked. Maybe I will do it one day, but for now, I am quite glad to be writing three or more poems a day. I think three has been the minimum of late, but I should keep better track of these things...
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