Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Hitting the wall

This morning, as I sit at my computer reading mail, a bird flies into the glass window. Stunned, he sits still on the deck, only his tiny mouth opening and closing. It can go two ways, of course, this slamming into a solid object: he will die from the injuries, or he will sit a moment gathering his strength, clearing his head, and fly off.

Last night, I was trying to prepare for my weekly session with my writing coach. I felt discouraged, and considered calling the other girl who meets with us to tell her to take the whole forty-five minutes and I'll see them next week (see note below). I couldn't seem to come up with any way to gracefully end the piece I've been working on.

This morning, I sit up in bed, and something comes to me. I hurry in, sleepy-eyed, ignore my husband sitting at the counter, and scribble it down. It sounds okay, and I feel more ready to take the writing in for discussion.

I am finding my writing rhythm. Nighttime is for revision, when my mind is on the rational, trained from working with numbers all day. Morning is for the inspirational, when I can draw from my dreams and rest.

And like the bird, I was a little stunned by hitting the writing wall last night. But during the night, I slept and gathered strength, and this morning was able to take tentative flight on getting the story right.

An added note: My writing friend had the same thought as I, to cancel coming. I'm glad we came. The reading and listening was good for us both.


trisha said...

I'm glad we both showed up. I felt like I'd plowed all of southern Wake County by the time we were finished.

What happened to the birdie?

mamie said...

Oh, sorry. I thought later that I forgot to say what happened to him because I was all caught up in what happened to me! I went outside to check on him and scared him into flying away. Thank goodness!

I know what you mean about the plowing, but there was the same, tired sense of accomplishment too.