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Writing and the Art of Freefall
How to get out of your own way and write some good stuff
I wrote a book and the darling dear sweet thing got published. And I was exposed. Like those dreams of being naked walking down the street. The private tanglings of my innermost thoughts like stained dish towels on the line. I was proud of my book but I shied away from the attention. Like mouse.
I continued to write but rarely showed anything to anyone.
The joy was gone. How could I get back to the joy of writing?
The dancing as if no one is watching.
When I wrote Saltskin, I lived in a cottage by the sea, all alone, and I awoke in the morning and wrote. Only stopping to put the teapot on the woodstove, and the teapot inevitably boiled dry because I became so absorbed in the glorious freefall of writing. In the story. The characters and scenes in my head unfolding as if in real-time. In the bliss. The flow.
How did I do it? Write a book? I knew it could be done. I’d done it. And it was easy. I remembered the ease. Like a person who is just really good at swimming, simply teaching another, I tried to…
