Going all out
Sometimes it seems that the biggest lesson in writing, and the one I have to keep learning over and over, is not to pull my punches.
And I keep seeing reminders everywhere: in tennis players who run all out and lunge at the ball; in singers who seem to draw their voices up from their toes; in dancers who pour fire into their performances. I want to write that way.
But the more you invest in a work, the more vulnerable you are. It runs counter to our instincts--or to mine, anyway--to drop self-protectiveness, to take risks. It's like sending up a balloon and hoping nobody sticks a pin in it.
It also takes tremendous energy--physical, mental, emotional--to give 100% at the writing desk.
Many things about writing become easier with time and practice. This part doesn't. In fact, I think it gets more difficult.
And I keep seeing reminders everywhere: in tennis players who run all out and lunge at the ball; in singers who seem to draw their voices up from their toes; in dancers who pour fire into their performances. I want to write that way.
But the more you invest in a work, the more vulnerable you are. It runs counter to our instincts--or to mine, anyway--to drop self-protectiveness, to take risks. It's like sending up a balloon and hoping nobody sticks a pin in it.
It also takes tremendous energy--physical, mental, emotional--to give 100% at the writing desk.
Many things about writing become easier with time and practice. This part doesn't. In fact, I think it gets more difficult.
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