Write. Write free-write. Ideas
come. Eventually. Even stories that halt and get stuck. Like elevators. And
stories about elevators. You get stuck. Get unstuck, or you’ll be stuck writing
in the back of a steno-pad about how stuck you feel about your writing. Write
to breathe. Write about anything. Breathe. Write. Itch your brain, even if it
doesn’t make sense in the moment. There’s no joy unless you feel the pen in
your hand and watch the ink flow onto paper as you breathe writing. Writing is
life. You want to live.
Coffee! I smell coffee. What a glorious scent. Even when you don’t want to consume it, at that moment. Because you’ll need to sleep, eventually. Don't get distracted. Work, write, coffee, sleep, type, write, think. Breathe! Write. This makes no sense, and yet you don’t care. You must write the way you must breathe.
Coffee! I smell coffee. What a glorious scent. Even when you don’t want to consume it, at that moment. Because you’ll need to sleep, eventually. Don't get distracted. Work, write, coffee, sleep, type, write, think. Breathe! Write. This makes no sense, and yet you don’t care. You must write the way you must breathe.
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