Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sunday, Easter, spring

Next year I really need to pick something different for Lent. I did well enough, you see, with the whole being creative every day. Mostly I wrote, wrote quite a lot, and remembered that little humming noise my brain makes when I'm writing well. So today, the first day when I don't have to, I think - but no, I liked writing every day. I liked having the pressure, too, of a group of people and a structure to keep at it. I'm going to miss it. So perhaps I should go back to giving up chocolate and coffee and alcohol for Lent.

Writing has, in fact, gotten me through a few dark nights of the soul, in an unexpected way. It has set a standard for me that has been both higher (get out of your head, challenge yourself, try writing differently, and about different topics) and lower (write! just write. Worry about the rest later). I will have to keep doing it, and having the discipline to do so will be hard for a while. Still, I come back to it again and again. It reminds me of my guitar - a failed experiment - teacher's definition of musician. She said that being a musician is not about whether you have talent, or about what fame you achieve. It is about whether you come back to it throughout your life, work at it, and give yourself a chance to learn.

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