Nose Close to Paper

Most of us who've been in any kind of writing workshop where work is read aloud have been asked to "Just read, please." No introduction beyond the title, except perhaps the genre, and certainly no apologies. And most of us have seen people who couldn't help themselves. There's a flurry of back story that rises like smoke we try to wave away as we wait for words on a page. The explanations don't have much to do with the tale that follows. Usually they come from anxiety, which often has nothing to do with the confidence or lack of it on the language on paper. The explanation just distracts.

For the past month, anything I could say about my writing process feels like that kind of puff or fluff, though often before trying to create a view of what I was doing has been helpful to me and fun. I think I'll get back to that. Maybe I'm feeling superstitious. Right now I feel I'm on a good path, but worry that if I pull up my head and look around, I might think: uh oh. So I'll go back to peering close to the page. It's the quiet part of writing. Past the whirlwind and questions of a beginning, when I might want to brainstorm with others, but not so polished that I'm looking for readers. It's the part where one sentence kind of dictates the next and I'm listening with all ears.