Richard Hugo says to write with the tool that brings the writer the most sensual satisfaction. For Hugo, it was a number 2 pencil. He felt good putting the words on paper when he used one or two or more. Hugo liked to be prepared. He would sharpen about twenty pencils before settling into the act of writing. When one pencil dulled, he grabbed another.
Writing Life
What is the Blank Page?
The blank page often is thought of as a curse. Writers bemoan it. They even wail about it. They fret and stew about the blank page. They worry about putting words on the page. They worry about not putting words on the page. They fear the blank page will haunt them for the rest of their lives. They wonder when the blank page will stop being such a bully and let them write. They wonder if they can stage a coup. They fear the blank page already knows their plans to rebel, so they hide. They avoid the blank page. They make a pot of coffee. They wash the dishes or fold the laundry. They pretend they can’t see the blank page from the corner of their eye, but they know it’s there, glowering, waiting.
You Don’t Have to Say Anything
I wanted to publish these words yesterday, but they were difficult in coming. They remain difficult now. I’m not sure what point they serve, if any, except as a reminder that silence sometimes is the appropriate response.
I find myself without words when it comes to the Boston Marathon. I truly don’t know what to say. Any time I try to write something, the writing feels forced, fake. I refuse those words. I have seen them published in the past about other tragedies, and they will be written again. I want no part of that. The words have to mean something.
Why I Love Mornings
I am a morning person; thus, I love mornings. I specifically love early mornings. The time between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. is precious. Those hours are not yet filled with the yammering of my brain and all its thoughts of what I need to do haven’t been doing. My mind is quiet. It’s ready to work. It’s ready to write.
When the Words Don’t Come Easily
When the words don’t come easily, when I have to fight for every one of them, I take solace in Richard Hugo’s thoughts. He says the hard work put into one piece of writing makes for the sudden ease of a future – not subsequent but future – piece of writing. I keep writing in hopes of finding that “sudden ease,” however brief it may be. A brief moment of ease is like the first drink of water after running a race. Nothing tastes quite as good as that water. Nothing is quite as refreshing.
When Do You Write Best?
Some people write best in the morning, probably because they are morning people. They awaken and are ready to write. Their brains aren’t sluggish or filled with thoughts or worries from the day. Everything is fresh, like grass covered with dew. That time is precious to them. They try to safeguard it.