Writing Inspiration Wednesday

I'm hearing from some that 9/12 might be a tougher day than 9/11. Sending good thoughts out to all.

Yesterday was amazing. In the midst of all the sad memories and sorrow, two of my good friends had their babies! It reminded me that 9/11 can be happy again. Congrats T & J on E's arrival. She's just gorgeous with that dark hair. Congrats to A & C on H's arrival. He's our miracle and we are just thrilled that he's here and such a big boy! Over 4 lbs at just under 32 weeks. It's made me so happy! I can't wait to meet them.

So, my friend, Allison is struggling with getting her writing time in this week. I don't have nearly her excuse (I have no kids) but I'm feeling the same frustration. I like her description of trying to draw blood from a stone. How true.

So, in light of both our struggles to get back to last week's pure undisturbed stream of writing ideas and writing time, I'd like to offer up this inspiration from our inspiring writing coach, Monica Wood.

"It all means little, all the painting, sculpture, drawing, writing . . . it all has its place and nothing more. An attempt is everything. How marvelous!" Alberto Giacometti

Make the attempt.

And this one:

Today's the day. No more fooling around.

Set a timer for forty-five minutes, and don't get out of the chair until the timer dings. Even if you sit staring at the page the entire time, you're ingraining a habit.
Chickens and fraidy-cats may begin with five-minute segments.

If, after all your best efforts, the piece you're writing must be abandoned, do not despair. There is no such thing as wasted writing. Sometimes you must search and destroy, search and destroy, search and destroy before finding your true subject. Kiss those hard-earned pages good-bye--fondly, if you can manage it--and take out a beautiful, clean sheet. The new, marvelous thing you are about to write will emerge not despite those abandoned pages, but because of them (emphasis mine).

Train yourself to write through anything and to write anywhere.

Playing on the iPod: 1,2,3,4 (Feist)