The will of the way of writing is sitting down, being, writing against the hard waves,--learning, becoming better, teaching what you learn, learning better, writing story, being blessed, teaching what you learn, learning better . . .
The goal is the walk. I offer myself this lesson, well, again and again. Still the word and the story show up. I'm juggling life and the cost of houses and college educations. This puts a pressure that is not conducive to creativity. Instead, it says go, work, give--somewhere in that space I still write. I see the moon and I walk the lake with my dog and watch it turn silver, watch pelicans dip their beaks into that silver lake, sipping a silvery fish. It slows me down, my dog swims, I sit on the levee and feel grateful. It returns me to myself and I shed my skin.