Writing is similar to exercising. Your mental strength and stubbornness is more important than your physical capability. What you believe you can do dictates what you’ll accomplish.
I went to university in Scotland, and over there they do classes differently. Preparedness is valued, and if you aren’t prepared, you receive judgmental glares from a disappointed lecturer who then marks down your paper. Uni exhausted me, but I did learn my lesson.
Running down a centuries-old pier. Seagulls soaring overhead. Their ability to sense food was uncanny.
Writing is hard. It’s especially hard to write when it’s the fifth, or fifteenth, or fifty-sixth day in a row where you wake up and don’t do it. How do I convince myself to write so often? Here’s what I do.
Simple, yet beautiful between the willow trees. Walking next to the stream, listening to the water and wind, wandering to the stone steps. Peace. Perhaps how the creator of such a soothing place wished love could be.
Sometimes when I’m writing, I notice that I’m saying the same thing over and over. It’s not fun to read. Then I feel like a failure and a crappy writer that no one will ever like or want to publish. So I’ve come up with a simple method to help.
In the Park Güell. There’s space for an entire neighborhood, but only a few houses were ever completed. Perched on a hill overlooking the city. It felt like stepping into another world.
I am not a morning person. Mornings are a nice concept, but I don’t have to experience them to know they happen. When I started writing, I realized that mornings were a huge part of my day.
This might be sort of silly, but I love mugs. I made a rule for myself to curb the habit. I don’t buy mugs unless they give me inspiration. It’s turned into a writing exercise that helps me improve my writing.
Today is a big day. I finished my first book. As I look over the book in front of me, I can’t help but think of the first story I ever wrote.