|Writings of the Muse|
In general, it's been chaos out there.
I never thought Renee was one of those kooky writers who wrote according to the weather, but if you've been following this blog for a while, you might have noticed that it sure looks that way lately. She's been up. Then she's been down. We've had slow hard slogs and then bursts of inspiration. Running around like chickens with our heads cut off and then suddenly flopping over with nothing left.
In general, it's been chaos in here.
So let's all just take a minute and be still. Take a nice big calming breath and get our center back.
Ahhhhhh. That's it. Let's take another one, just to really focus back in.
Isn't that so much better?
I thought we could all use a little break. Seasons of transition can be so rough sometimes. Renee has been going a little bit out of her mind lately, which isn't much fun for the imaginary folks who live up here. But we're through it now and we're ready for some calm breezy summer days. I'm sure it'll start snowing again the minute I hit "Publish" on this post--that's the kind of spring we've been having, after all--but June is just around the corner. Summer really won't wait too much longer to put in an appearance.
Renee and I were recently reminded that while this business is one big crazy game, not everything about it has to be anarchy. The one thing we always have control of is the words we put on the page. The ideas might break loose and start sprinting hither, tither, and yon sometimes, but we don't have to drive ourselves mad trying to catch them.
No more rushing and racing for us. We will show up on our writing days, and we will write a little bit at a time. And if we do that, the ideas will stop running away from us and start running toward us instead. It's not the writer's job to come up with ideas. Ideas come up with themselves. It's the writer's job to be present when those ideas arrive, to be aware enough to see them for what they are. For what they could become.
It's time to embrace this one small shard of control we have in the big wild writerly world. The words are ours. They belong to us, not the other way around.