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I want to swallow the moon

stand on the sun

and spell the universe

in twenty words or less.

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So you want to be a writer 

because you think you can write. 

If you can talk, you can write, isn’t that right

As right as rain, and you’re not insane,

you can rhyme, 

you can reason, 

you can walk, 

and you can write.

 The question is when?

When will you have the time, find the time, make the time, dedicate the time, have no other demands on your time or demands on your mind?

Well, why not now?

Or do you need to eat, 

fix something around the house, 

or look for something: paper, pen, the definition of a word, a supporting article?

Must you do research?, 

read something for inspiration?, 

delve deep into thought?, 

or call on the muse relentlessly until you can get an answer?

And then you’ll be ready to pull together a bunch of ideas and try to make them work as a team, as a article, a story, or a poem?

So when you do write, 

will the thoughts cooperate and come together?, 

congeal?, 

obey?, 

metamorphose into a triumphal understanding that you can convey with clarity and ease?

Rather than struggle, 

why not just choose to write, 

just follow the flight of flinty tomes and flighty flings.

You can be macho in your mincing of words, 

and beat down the grass to reach the forest of dark, dense divination, 

and delineate destiny with difficulty and decisiveness.

When will you come with up that golden revelation that will launch you into a famous future, 

pave your way to stardom, 

make you the novelist of the moment, 

or the master story teller? 

What will help you to master the mood, 

the character, 

and the nuance of scene, theme, 

and fill reams with riddles, 

roads of glory, 

and moving moments that live in hearts forever.

But it’s not working, you say, 

after minutes, hours, days, weeks, or years. 

You don’t hear the angels, 

or feel the inspiration, 

the enticing siren song, 

that leads, 

and gives the guidance you need to reach the exciting climax, the conclusion that makes your day.

But wait, there’s hope, 

because there’s always perseverance.

Perseverance, the magic formula, method, approach, 

that separates the successes from the failures. 

Persevere in spite of,

in spite of the lack of results, 

in spite of effervescent mastery or nagging inadequacy, 

in spite of the grand assault of doubt, and self denigration.

Renew your determination, 

and dedicate yourself to your dream, 

and eventually you’ll find that knowing what you want will save you. 

You just have to define your dream more clearly, describe it with precision and pride.

Just describe that ultimate result that you’re seeking, 

with all the wild abandon that a diligent creative mind can muster. 

Because you have that magnificent manifesting mystery living inside of you, 

waiting to lay waste to the barren landscape of discouragement and disconnectedness.

Just put your all into imaging and knowing how the master piece will flow with you in tow.

Don’t ask how will you get there, 

Don’t keep telling yourself “No way!”

Tell yourself “Way”, 

“There’s a way!”

There’s a way for every thing, every one, every day.

It may not the way we expected, 

hoped for, 

wished for, 

dreamed of, 

wanted, 

prayed for, 

imagined and obsessed about, but there is a way. 

And this way can be more than it initially appears to be, 

more than you ever expected, more than the gods dared reveal to you. 

Because they wanted you to exercise your faith.

Your good faith needed to be marshaled, 

to bring you to a victorious future through determined and undiscouraged effort.

You’re on the road now, on the way, 

propelled, 

impelled, 

pulled, 

drawn 

and approaching a fulfilling, satisfying culmination of the efforts of your writing life, 

a life that sings and lifts you above and beyond this temporary mundane moment.

 

 

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