@NickEast@writers@writingcommunity@writing@humour There’s a story that when Cristiano de André, son of the Italian singer-songwriter Fabrizio de André, was asked in school to write an essay about “What does your dad do as a job?” he wrote a one-word answer: “Sleeps.”
I’ve been putting off writing more of my book for a while now, but have recently become more motivated to write it. I got on Atticus and wrote a few sentences today, but then my cat distracted me and I stopped.
How often do you work on your writing? Sentences a day, paragraph a day, section/chapters? Or a few times per week? What keeps you writing?
It’s a non-fiction book. If that makes a difference.
@ashleyspencer@writing I got writing advice at university.
Most valuable lesson: Track the hours not the letters.
So You can get a habit of spending one hour per day at your desk - "writing"
It could be busily typing - note taking - musing - sorting chapters - anything that is connected to the writing process.
Tracking progress in numbers is good for conversation and when you already have a deadline with a publisher
In the fading light of a late spring afternoon, the Foxman wandered along the ancient trackways of England, his footfalls whispering like the wind and pattered quietly like ripples through time. His presence was as enigmatic as the legends that surrounded him—a solitary figure shrouded in mystery.
As the Foxman strolled along the lonely road, a crow descended from the sky, alighting gracefully by his side. Its ebony feathers shimmered in the dying sunlight, and its eyes gleamed with curiosity; he knew of the Foxman, from the many stories that were told and his wisdom was understood to be part of who he was. The crow, ever inquisitive, began a conversation with the enigmatic traveler.
"Tell me, Foxman," the crow cawed, "who possesses the most beautiful song—a fox or a crow?"
The Foxman turned his gaze upon the inky bird, contemplating the question for some time, he was never one to jump into an answer without thinking. His eyes, as old as the ancient trackways he traversed held the cunning of those years. With a gentle smile, he replied, "In truth, both possess a unique beauty, a song that transcends the realms of the living and reaches out to the Somewhen."
The crow tilted its head, its curiosity piqued. "The Somewhen?" it echoed.
"Yes," the Foxman whispered, his voice carrying the weight of forgotten ages. "Their songs, though different, sing to our dearly departed, the souls who have embarked upon their final journey. The fox's cry and the crow's caw carry through to the other realms, reminding us of our own mortality and the fleeting nature of existence. Hail to the land of spells and spirits"
The crow's eyes widened, "But such reminders can be unsettling for many," it mused. "Why should we find beauty in the songs that speak of loss?"
The Foxman's gaze turned wistful, his thoughts drifting to distant memories. "It is true, dear crow, that the reminder of our own mortality can be disquieting. But within those melancholic melodies lies a profound beauty—a reminder that life's fleeting moments should be cherished, and those who have departed should be remembered with love and reverence."
As the crow pondered the Foxman's words, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue upon the ancient trackway. The air grew still, the weight of eternity settling upon the two conversing souls.
"The songs of the fox and the crow," the Foxman concluded softly, "are not merely meant to be heard by the living. They carry whispers of remembrance, a bridge between the realms. It is through their voices that we can feel a connection to those who have journeyed beyond, a solace in the face of our own inevitable destiny."
With those profound words, the crow took flight, its ebony form blending seamlessly with the encroaching night. The Foxman continued his solitary trek along the ancient trackways, his heart filled with the melodies of the fox and the crow, carrying the eternal reminder of life's impermanence and the enduring beauty in the songs that speak to those we have lost.
It's no surprise that this month as been hard on me and my family, but recently I've noticed my friends and colleagues are having a challenging time too. So what gives?
I started asking myself this question when working on Walks, a series of books celebrating the Haiku. When I published the last volume, I realized how much my experiences as an immigrant (I moved to Canada from France in 2003) had shaped my definition of the word “home” as a spiritual place rather than just a physical location.
@writing Hi there. Just discovered the groups. Is there any intro page/message, some resume of possible rules, topic discussed, etc? And above all, is the group alive?
What do you do when you have a powerful emotional response to a writing prompt? A visible one, at a conference, right in front of 120 people you just met. Well, if you're awesome like writer Kristin South, you write an essay about it, to share your revelations and the helpful responses from fellow writers.How do you put yourself through writing from the POV of someone truly loathsome?
Religion remains a vital if not crucial aspect of most Americans’ lives. When you're defining your characters in a complete way, is their religion--or their faith--an element you consider or explore? How do you address faith in your storytelling? Can you think of exemplary depictions of faith in the fiction that inspires you?
David Corbett takes a deep dive into the topic, today on Writer Unboxed.