The power of the streak

Sometimes you write because you are moved by the muse, or the moose. Sometimes you write because you made a commitment to blog every day, and so something has to emerge from your fingers or the streak will be broken. Both are powerful motivations. I have felt them both, and there’s something peculiar about them.Continue reading “The power of the streak”

Change of scenery

I am moving out of my office/bedroom, where I have created stuff for the last 10 years, and into another bedroom, in part because I have new/old furniture. My current office will be transforming into a bedroom. The centerpiece of my new workspace is this fine rolltop computer desk — I think it’s real oakContinue reading “Change of scenery”

Moose call

Somewhere over my head, I heard the call of a moose. “Hey!” he called with a flourish. “Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.” I rolled my eyes. “That trick never works.” “This time for sure!” he cried. “Here’s the secret: Don’t think, just write.” “Oh, please,” I said. It was close toContinue reading “Moose call”

Another road to the next sentence

The other day I wrote you should just write the next sentence, not worry about The Big Picture or The Big Project, when you find yourself stuck looking at a blinking cursor or a blank page. Wouldn’t you know it, no sooner had I posted that post and gone to bed when I started tossingContinue reading “Another road to the next sentence”

Write the next sentence

Many writing coaches and books say when you find yourself stuck, stop worrying about the Big Picture, just concentrate on writing the next sentence. Ask “What happens next?” At some point, you’ll stop struggling sentence by sentence again, and the words will start flowing. One of these days I’m going to complete my collection ofContinue reading “Write the next sentence”

Making sense of the madness

I keep thinking I could make more progress with my novels if I approached each chapter as if it were a separate short story, instead of thinking of it as One Big Honking Project, but then I don’t even rouse myself to make that eating-an-elephant-one-bite-at-a-time effort. It’s almost as if a part of me doesn’tContinue reading “Making sense of the madness”

Sturgeon’s Famous Ninety

I came down to the basement shortly before midnight and resolved to write a prose poem, or a song, or a poem-poem, or prose that sounded like them all at once. But the rhythm wouldn’t come, wouldn’t come, and wouldn’t come some more. I turned the page and started over, trying not to rhyme, justContinue reading “Sturgeon’s Famous Ninety”

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