The secret.

I caught my foot in another cycle of overthinking this afternoon. Overanalyzing, hyperscheduling, visualizing the worst, overplanning. 

I find myself in these cycles a lot.

So, into that bit of madness, this breath of simplicity:

Because sometimes, that really is all I need to know. 

Sometimes that's the only rule I need to keep.

And sometimes, I need to remember that it can be that simple.

You write by sitting down and writing. -- Bernard Malamud

So speak up.

Here's another reason to write, from Annie Dillard. Because she knows about these things.

Astonishment.

It's like a big bag of caffeine for the heart. 

Dillard's quote here gives me permission to be more aware of it, to track it, to sniff it out. 

What astonishes you? What dazzles and dizzies you? 

I tend to feel it in an instant, a little flash-fire of brilliance in a moment of beauty. This quote makes me want to throw a spotlight on it, and then step into that light. 

I'm new to Instagram, so I've been prowling around among all the photos, all the galleries and feeds. It's like a catalogue of wonder. I'm amazed by the landscapes, the food, art, and people. The perfect summer tomatoes, the mountains reflected on the lake, the kids throwing sand, the dog's patient expression, the frog wide-eyed on a child's palm. 

All the sweet astonishingness of ordinary (and extraordinary) days. 

We all need to be astonished, to move toward it.

And then this: We are meant to give voice to that.

To take the photos, write the poems, spin the stories, and capture the moment in one way or another. All of us, all us makers: that's our job. 

And it is needed. 

You were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment. -- Annie Dillard

So what amazes you? What spins your heart around? And how are you giving voice to it? Let me know in the comments.

No matter what. {Let's keep going.}

Today's quote can pretty well speak for itself.

What I did have, which others perhaps didn't, was a capacity for sticking at it, which really is the point, not the talent at all. You have to stick at it. -- Doris Lessing

How much do I love that.

Now and then, I feel inspired. On very rare occasions, I even feel brilliant.

But most days, I am just a terribly ordinary writer-girl who is only doing this because she's too darned stubborn to give up.

In other words, I do have that capacity for sticking at it.

And that--on this very ordinary day--is a comforting thought.

So let's rally that stubbornness, that plow horse mentality. The part of us that will stick with it. Through the thick and also through the thin. 

And let's keep going. Let's stick.

Today is another chance.

I love the truth in this: every day is a restart button. Every writing session can be better than I thought.

And why wait for a new day? Why not use every break to reset my thinking? Coming back after a meal, after an errand, after any extended interruption: it's a chance at new words. Better images. Cleaner sentences.

This is an especially good quote for me, since I'm revising one of my manuscripts. And it is all too easy to stare at my old paragraphs and either think: Hey, that's not so bad, I'll leave it, or, Oh my gosh, am I really that bad at this?

Today's my chance to do a little better. To take what was already decent, and turn up the volume, make it shine. To take what was crappy, and make it, well, at least mediocre!

Mediocre? I'm totally joking. Today I'll make it awesome. 

With each new dawn, every writer gets a second chance to write well. -- Eric Maisel

Lighten up.

Some days, I'm the overthinker. I'll overplan things that don't need to be planned. I hyperschedule; I obsess over details.

And sometimes, fine, it makes sense: writing a novel is a bit like building a rocketship in your imagination, all the parts and pieces in your head. Some days it feels like rocket science.

But I have to remember: it's also okay to loosen up. Shake out cramped fingers, turn the characters loose to play for a while, make daisy chains out of words. 

Sometimes I have to remember, this really is just a story. It's just a bunch of words. 

And for those days, this quote:

So here's to lightening up.

Stop making this harder than it is. -- Heather Sellers

All marathons have a finish line.

Today is a marathon work day! Can you feel it? That urge to get into a groove and catch up a big project. Keep the caffeine coming! All hands on deck, all systems go, everything marching forward!

Because I totally am doing that.

Except for falling asleep on top of my work, and then distracting myself with the Internet, and maybe also staring at the ceiling a lot.

But otherwise. Otherwise, I'm telling you, I'm totally rocking it.

Okay, in all seriousness, it's a good day for writing. It's raining here, and for the most part, the words are coming steadily. I am having a marathon revision session, and today's quote is my happy cheerleader: pointing me toward the goal of all this good work, all the clarifying, the search for better words. 

I'm building toward (or muddling toward) the draft that works. The final one. 

The one that takes the best of my original vision, and all the best of everything since then.

The one with the sharpest conflict, the highest stakes, the brightest characterization, the most memorable settings. And hopefully, all the right words.  

Barbara Abercrombie's quote comes from her book A Year of Writing Dangerously, which I highly recommend for any type of writer. It's packed with clever advice, much-needed encouragement, and (you know I love 'em) quotes from other writers.

Best of all, it reminds me that I'm normal. That all the weird little tics of my writing brain are so similar to the other writing brains out there.

It makes me think of all the other writers today, turning phrases one way and then another, refining one draft and turning it into the next and then the next. Some of us maybe napping in the midst of it.

All that scribbling, typing, clattering, mumbling out loud, staring into space, reaching for a better word.

It's a good crowd. 

And I think they're telling me, it's time to get back to that manuscript.

What we need to do is think of all our failed drafts as simply steps toward the final one, the one that works. -- Barbara Abercrombie