Here is (amended) content that accompanies one of the slides from my upcoming workshop.
Time doesn’t just fall from the clock, offering itself like a piece of spontaneously generated cake. We must make time to write. Musicians practice their instrument. Horse owners groom their animals and exercise them. We write. We are writers. As writers, we live part of our lives in our own imaginations. We are dreamers, visionaries, and creators. Throughout history, it is the poet and author who aid in sanity in the shadows of the ache of war or other pestilence. We’re like sled dogs that have the wolf blood only partially contained. We want to run with the wind in our faces, even if the ice sometimes bites at our eyes. We paint pictures with words and try to transport ourselves, and our readers, into a world of our own creation. We don’t just write stories, we weave tapestries with language. We build castles out of sentence structure. We provide an escape from reality on the wings of our own inspiration. We track the trail of a muse and document its every shiver. To borrow a phrase from the movie, Dead Poet Society, “We didn’t just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey.” Only, we don’t just read it or recite it, we write it. And so I encourage you; Don’t just write. Write! Use your thesaurus. Use your tools. Take language in your hand like a new shade of paint and transform your virtual canvas into a masterpiece. Never settle. Never. For that is not who we are. Fanciful escape artists molding reality into moments of peaceful quiescence; that is who we are.