writing writing .

it doesn’t cease to amaze me that as writers of any sort we fill notebooks, only to have more to say & more notebooks to fill . it seems simple . but it’s actually entirely remarkable . that you – & i – have this ability to create . bringing something to life that wasn’t there even a half hour ago .

recently i read the war of art by steven pressfield and came to the conclusion i needed to sit with the piano and a blank notebook every day . for as long as i needed to sit there . at least an hour . most times longer .
even if i don’t feel like it .

every day’s different . sometimes i play old hymns & let the beauty of their words wash over my skin … & some days i play through songs i’ve already written . some days i dive into writing something entirely new … spilling all over the page and piano keys . but every time i keep that agreement to

sit
be still
listen
play
listen some more …

new ideas come .   new pathways unfold . songs are brought to the initial place of being birthed . it’s not magic . it’s dedication to the craft . & as artists we absolutely owe it to ourselves, to our imagination, to our growth and to the craftsmanship of our art to recognize what a gift it is to create .

and then to actually do it .

to stick with it with a furious devotion .

k .

lecture over .

all lectures end with a hug .

a