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.

2 comments:

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.