one small step

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

- Lao-tzu, Chinese philosopher

Even the most monumental tasks begin with just one small step forward.

I've decided I will try to tackle the ideas & inspirations in the Pocket Muse by Monica Wood as a source of inspiration for weekly writing.

 I think this guide would fit in nicely with Leah's Creative Every Day Challenge, as both seek to kick the stagnant writer in the butt and get the creative juices flowing.

our Human condition

I'm so glad I joined Creative Every Day for so many reasons. One of them is discovering how sometimes, totally different people are experiencing the same emotion at the same time.


I'm not the only one that has recently expressed their fear in words:


Knowing is half the battle by Jamie @spunkyness
Fear of the first step by Lisa @Think.Write.Create.
Confessions of a Scaredy Cat by Tracy @tracyswartz.com



Is it the change of season and the rapid approach of Spring? Is it leftover anxiety from the start of a new year, a sign of these times and this mess of an economy, or a reaction to frightening global events? There are always reasons to fear, but every day we stare terror right in the face, just like my fellow authors above. Exposed, the things that scare us are just a little bit easier to overcome.


Fear is just a door that separates us from an unknown future.
See you on the other side.


Did you write about fear recently? Did I miss someone who did? Please let me know!

- wit - 

copy. write. infringment.

I find comfort in the safety of anonymity. It is the paranoia that surrounds me and keeps my thoughts safely to myself. And I wonder why there is more fear in sharing? What good do ideas do when locked inside, gathering dust and haunting the tired writer's mind.

These words that rattle and clamour against the skull like unsettled spirits. But these ghosts are mine. I am still too anxious to set them free.

I discover that writer's block comes in two forms: the absent genius and the possessive muse. The turn of phrase that gets past is not the first to be written. The best is kept for herself. Like a hen, she sits on her words waiting for brilliance to hatch.

Newborn, I will brand these letters. And the world will know they are mine.

- wit -

Fractured Shelter

My nest has fallen from its tree.

She isn't the me I know. Her ink has dried up. Words flowed from my lips soft as rain. I wrapped lyrical phrases around me like a blanket. My pen was always moving. She is a fractured shelter.

She gathers twigs to weave together, but the winds of change are blowing too hard in these stormy days. She is naked and hollow, the cold blowing right through. My pages are missing. They are leaves scattered to the wind.

We huddle inside and wait for Spring.

- wit -