So yesterday my younger, wiser sister wrote to me: “Inspiration doesn’t just come out of nothing. It comes as you stumble across something that maybe you did by mistake, but always as coming out of something you were actually already doing.”
Of course. I knew that. But still.
And then today Bretthead commented on the last post: “You are a really good writer and although I always tell you to write for yourself, selfishly I want you to write for me (and those other readers of yours too). Don’t get up on a topic or idea. Just do it. One paragraph is fine. I bet you will find the results surprising.”
When I put the two comments together, I came up with the idea to write a post here every single day, just one paragraph. I think I can start with that; it seems non-threatening enough. One paragraph about anything at all, whatever is in my head at the time. Commitment happens to be a word I’m petrified of, it seems, but I think (dare I say it?) I can commit to one paragraph a day. And then, as my sister and B said, perhaps inspiration will come of what I was already doing, and I will find the results surprising.
So here goes. We’re already past one paragraph, but this is the one that counts.
You lean in to kiss her and just as she closes her eyes you think better of it and sit back. Everyone kisses on impulse and you know too many people who regret it. The thing is, this doesn’t have to be a romance. It’s just expected in some way by the unseen watching your story unfold. It’s not unlikely you might fall in love but it’s not only too soon, it’s cliché, and if there’s anything you’ve learned about living out a story, it’s that clichés may be long-lasting but they quickly become uninteresting and naturally predictable, even if the endless variations on a theme continue to impress those who think they’re art. This is real life, not some romantic comedy in which characters profess their love for each other, actually using the word love, after a mere afternoon of fun. No, you decide, today your lips are sealed.
She opens her eyes and you grab her hand. Let’s go out, you say.
Perfect, Steph. That paragraph was perfect.
You’re on to it now. Just write. Even for 5 minutes.
Because that’s 5 minutes more than 99.99 percent of the planet.
Cory Doctorow (who I admire very much) says he gets a whole book and more each year by only doing 20 minutes a day.
And if you think about it, this makes sense.
Twenty minutes a day, every day.
That’s a book, and then some, at the end of the year.
That’s a healthier body.
That’s a new job.
That’s a new life, in a country where you truly want to be.
Twenty minutes.
(I should strive to live by that. Twenty minutes a day, focus on two things. Make them happen.)
Thanks, Brett! Your comment is perfect, too – so right. It’s much longer than 20 mins for me, though, even though the result is so short. Right now, writing takes me an age! Soon, though, I expect the ideas will come swifter and I’ll be able to shut down the editor sooner so I can write uninterrupted.
What the @#$! Where did this come from!? Next time you say you’re not inspired, I’ll come over to Belleville (running, as VIA Rail is now on strike)and give you a slap.
Congratulations, we’re on our way. Funnily enough, the painting I’m working on has finally taken an interesting turn.
I see Brett likes Cory Doctorow. Funny, he used to be a roommate of a very good friend of mine.
Er – what do you mean where did this come from? I say right at the very beginning: from you and Bretthead.
Today I feel as though I might jump out of my skin. I keep discovering I’m holding my breath. My mind is absolutely racing, as though desperately searching for the story that will make me famous. I’ve decided, I’ve discovered, whatever, that I don’t want to be just a published author. I want to be Rowling and Meyer. I’m going to freak out. I am freaking out. But I’m tied to this interminable list of references of academics who’ve written on deliberative democracy instead…
Can’t wait to see that painting!
Cool about Doctorow and your friend!