Writing is like driving at night in the fog.
You can only see as far as your headlights,
but you can make the whole trip that way.
E.L. Doctorow
Writing, for me, is a similar act of faith, like digging through mud to find a spring.
It’s believing that even though I don’t know how the words, stanzas, or paragraphs will come together,
that I am nonetheless the person who is supposed to be writing them, that by the end of a writing day,
something will happen even if it’s not evident what that is.
Writing is starting out with nothing or very little—a blank page or a written page that’s still not right—and trusting that in time, if I am faithful to the act and the calling of writing, the spring will begin to flow.
It’s believing that even though I don’t know how the words, stanzas, or paragraphs will come together,
that I am nonetheless the person who is supposed to be writing them, that by the end of a writing day,
something will happen even if it’s not evident what that is.
Writing is starting out with nothing or very little—a blank page or a written page that’s still not right—and trusting that in time, if I am faithful to the act and the calling of writing, the spring will begin to flow.
