The hardest part of writing anything is first deciding what you want to say. After that, the words will write themselves. But getting started is the hardest part.
So I just start. I ramble. Anything I say is fine with me, until I stop. Then, when I stop, I go and try to find another thing to do, and when I’m done, I come back and I try to read the things I wrote and try to clean the mess I made.
I chop it up. I cross and underline. I keep the parts I want and save the rest. And then I try to paint it. Try to bake it. Carve and sing and dance and animate it. Try to place it in a picture frame.
And there is pain, and there is tenderness. My legs get sore. My fingers creak. My muscles pinch along my back and neck. I look around and notice dusty specs. I type one more, I swing one more, I’m just about to quit.
And then it’s like the tower is complete. A ripple here, a polish there, and then I go to sleep.
Back to Home