10 Things Writers Can Learn from a Brick
All those “list” posts for writers annoy me. Especially the ones I’ve written. Most especially, this one: 1. A brick is skilled at staying on task. Put one in front of a computer, it will sit there for hours. 2. A brick doesn’t jump in front of a truck when it gets a rejection letter. 3. A brick understands the importance of structure. 4. A brick rarely complains on Twitter and Facebook about the unfairness of bricklayers. 5. A brick isn’t jealous of other bricks. (Except those at J. K. Rowling’s house.) 6. A brick doesn’t stress over its Amazon.com ranking. 7. A brick can build a bridge or start a revolution. 8. A brick isn’t perfect. It’s okay with that. 9. With a little help, a brick can fly. 10. Bricks...
A Life of Its Own
It begins as an idea in your head. Wait, back up. That’s not entirely accurate. It starts long before that. It begins as a childhood daydream, as a parade of clouds, as a balance-beam walk along a railroad track. It begins with rock-skipping, dirt-digging, butterfly-following. It begins in beautiful words and hard words. In complaint and compliance. In monsters hiding under the bed. In hiding under the bed from monsters. It begins in the infinite space after the yes and before the kiss. In the thrill of discovery, the fear of begin discovered. The uncertainty of one moment and the certainty of another. It begins five minutes or two decades ago, when all it means is what it is. And then in a flash it becomes something else. It becomes an idea for a...
