It’s been a productive week writing. Finally, the time available and the muse have decided to get in bed together, and it’s a good thing. Steven King once suggested writing two thousand words a day, and by that, he meant two thousand words that connected to two thousand other words before and after and were clean.
Diana Gabaldon, who wrote the epic and awe-inspiring “Outlander” series, writes nonlinear, which means she will write a scene and then write up to that scene, like stepping stones across a creek being put in at random, or maybe not random, just not in the order most people would think.
I write like that sometimes, and it’s both easier and harder. The best editor I ever met advised against it, but he was also not one of the best writers I knew. He reminded me of a cook who followed every recipe to the letter, and never skipped a step or added anything. True enough, his writing was easy to read and very crisp and clean, but it lacked soul. There was no adventure in the way the man wrote and certainly no spice.
My insomnia has been made a servant now. If I wake up at three, I get up and start writing. Usually, it’s between three and four, and realizing it was Thursday, I got up and wrote these words to you. This is my time, the time where there is no one calling or texting, or pushing me with their nose trying to get petted. It’s the time of day for me to kickoff what part of what story to write, and spend the rest of the time polishing it, and connecting it to the other pieces.
Yesterday, I was up and writing and stepped outside to clear my mind. It was still dark, but the eastern sky already had a red tint to it. I went back inside and got my cell, and walked down the driveway, and was rewarded with an awesome sunrise. Pond birds, egrets, and other birds flew through the fiery sky towards the lake south of here, and I wonder how they see this sort of display?
Whatever you do, either for vocation or advocation, or for fun, or just because it feeds your soul, take a moment, or sixty, go out and look at a sunrise, or a sunset, or just walk in the woods. Reconnect with nature, admire the beauty of a tree, and take time to allow yourself to simply be without any demands that you be doing something.
The clouds and the colors of the dawn were incredible. So bright, and so vivid, my camera had problems dealing with the intensity. The towering cloud formation was miles high and many times that wide, yet in just a few moments, it was gone.
Life is like that you know. It always has been, and it always will be.
The only question is how much of it will you enjoy and how many of those moments will you allow yourself to experience? What will you create with your time, that might ease someone out of their chair, and into the sunrise?
Mike writes regularly at his site: The Hickory Head Hermit.
Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.