"Happiness does not depend on outward things, but on the way we see them."

-- Leo Tolstoy

It was the most perfect atmosphere for writing. A dark, rainy evening, cool enough to have the windows open so I could listen to the sound of the rain falling outside. Not a terrible storm, the kind which often frightens me, but a gentle, springtime rain. A scented candle burned on my one side, fresh cut lilacs from the tree outside on my other. And no one to bother me, no other work pressing. At last, I could be alone with my writing, and devote myself to it entirely . . .

And no words would come.

Somehow, this is probably not as surprising a statement as I would hope. As long as there have been writers, there has been writer’s block. In the movie Shakespeare in Love, Joseph Fiennes gave a wonderful depiction of the great playwright himself, stumped for the next scene of his play.

It was nearly enough to make me want to curl up in bed with a good book. But, somewhat guiltily, I thought to myself – what if all the other writers had done that when the going got tough? There would be no books to curl up in bed with! True enough, but that did not make me very inclined to keep pushing myself, when it seemed so much more tempting to give in to the weakness, to stop pushing myself for some great masterpiece, or even to have a page of good writing appear on the screen. At this point, I would even have settled for a good idea to put into words poorly, in order to fix later, but nothing would come at all.

Not very long ago, I was reading a book called Writing on Both Sides of the Brain by Henriette Anne Klauser. The author insisted that when you felt like giving up, you should time yourself ten minutes by the clock. Work as much as you can, as hard as you can during those ten minutes, and at the end of them, if you still wanted to give up, you could do so, guilt-free. Now was my opportunity to put those words into action.

And what was my results? I did indeed come up with an idea for adding a scene to a story I’ve been working on for the past couple of weeks. Its too long to share here, but I am pleased with the way it is shaping up.

Games poets play: to see everything in a new light. What color is my light – what is the quality of it? Vague, shadowy, uncertain. A lot of high-contrast. Poetry noir. I do not write in a pastel world. Black, gray, white – dim light and shadows, strange spotlights from out of nowhere. I must think more visually. That’s my greatest failing in writing right now.

I am all feeling, and no perception. I am living in the moment, but seeing nothing. I am denying what is around me because it does not fit the ideal of beauty that I want.

I must see the harsh light of the gas station, the tire tracks in the mud, the peeling paint, the skeletal frame of the building not yet born – born in reverse, from the outside in, the bones open and exposed. I must see the faces of unknown strangers, the trash upon the ground.

Everything I hate. Why can’t I live in a beautiful world?

I wish that today felt more inspiring than it actually does. To know that on this day, seemingly ordinary, something spectacular happened: a grand poem was born – a breakthrough in writing made.

I come to the page – who meets me here? Am I all alone in the writing, a barren landscape with flat words? Or will the skittering of literary rabbits dart around me, a wind of inspiration blowing softly against me . . .

"The most durable thing in writing is style, and style is the most valuable investment a writer can make with his time. It pays off slowly, your agent will sneer at it, your publisher will misunderstand it, and it will take people you have never heard of to convince them by slow degrees that the writer who puts his individual mark on the way he writes will always pay off."

--Raymond Chandler (1888-1959), Letter, 7 March 1947

For more quotes, I reccomend Barbara Bretton's site.

A lot can happen in a week. Sometimes, in the day to day struggle of planning, and meeting obligations, you forget that a single weekend can change your whole life. At any rate, that’s all it took to completely change mine.

A week ago Friday, my boyfriend asked me to marry him. Saturday was the first meeting of our parents together at a dinner we planned just for that occasion, so we could formally announce our engagement. And Sunday was my long-awaited graduation from college.

In the midst of so much change, it takes all I can manage right now just to process everything, let alone come up with interesting articles to post. I still write every day; now, however, the pieces are things that are steadying and grounding to me, and not necessarily great reading, or terribly inspiring to anyone else. That will take a bit of time returning, once I feel more settled. In the midst of realizing how much work I have in front of me, writing every day becomes more important, and more of a challenge.

It makes me stop to reflect how important writing actually is to me. I know it will always be a part of my life, and having a fiancé who respects my writing, who believes in me and encourages me to pursue this dream of mine means all the world to me.

Even though it is easy to become overwhelmed with all the plans I must make, all the changes I have still before me to go through, I am determined to keep writing as a daily part of my life, and I will continue to share the better portion of what I come up with. It will be good practice for the years ahead, no doubt. And when I look back on this time, I will find a record of what I was going through at this time, what my thoughts were, and how very excited and happy I am now.