The writing life is a state, not a state of mind, but a state of being, a way of sifting the world into language. Just as a photographer’s eye is attuned to shape, shadow, and form, so a writer is attuned to complications, contradictions, and contrasts.
Life hurries by and the writer runs with her net held high, catching moments here and there, setting them out to dry, and adding them to her collection.
The writer hears a soft humming in her solar plexus, and allows it to lead her out into the world. Criticisms and complaints fade into the background, releasing a joy that permeates her entire being, a joy that makes her want to put aside her pen and dance, for dancing is also part of the writing life. Dancing is a means of folding one experience into the next. But you must fold gently, blending time with egg whites beaten into peaks.
Music is also part of the writing life. Music is the sound of the universe and the universe is the writer’s palette. No paint by numbers here. Words blend haphazardly, overriding the habits of logic. The radiance of being alive in this world now trickles down the writer’s arm into her hand, words tumbling onto paper.
The writing life is life itself, experienced abundantly, exuberantly, and with gratitude. Thank you Robin and Sandra for initiating me into the writing life.
Writing on the Edge: https://writingontheedge.co.uk/