If You Can’t Sit Still
After dinner the first evening of Artists Week we were in a circle in the yard, still drinking wine and talking. I said, “What do you know for sure?”
Gail said, “Who are you? Oprah?” She’d had her quota of Pound Hound Red by then.
“No,” I said, and repeated the question, “What is one thing you’re certain about? It can be a small thing. I’ll go first. I’ll never own a yellow car.” We went from there, responses ranging from the trivial, like mine, to the touching response of Vivian: “I’ll never let a year go by without being in Tuscarora.”
This morning I am asking myself, “What is the one thing I know for sure about writing?” I have taught composition for over twenty years. I have what seems like a lifelong yearning to be a “real writer.” What do I know for sure?
Writing requires the ability to sit on your butt for extended periods of time and on a regular basis. (Okay, I know Hemingway stood and typed. It’s a metaphorical butt.)
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