Thoughts on writing that I found to be very true and incredibly moving.
Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
A new friend asked me today about writing. It forced me to think about my process. The lack of such of a thing. I reflected upon it as he sat and waited for the secret. I found myself breathing into dramatic pauses as I tried to talk about writing.
Where the words come from.
And where, sometimes, I imagine they are hiding.
I don’t have a process for writing it turns out. I sit down when I have a moment or when I have to because I’m stricken with inspiration that grips me. I can’t stop thinking about the words and how they’ll sound. Panic – fear that I won’t be able to express it. Until I’m paralyzed by it and writing something is the only way out.
I’m completely undisciplined in it though.
So I told him what I know to be true about blogging:
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