This time of year...


Computers and keyboards are fine things, but this time of year I like to write by hand, under the sky, close to the ground. 

Any piece of paper will do, and a pencil with a point sharp enough for letters, but I prefer using little hardbound sketchbooks ordered on-line from an art-supply dealer in Atlanta. Back in my artist years, I used to draw in these.

Settling down to work, I turn to the first blank page and some mornings I find a story waiting. Other days I have to dig for it. Most days, though there is something there, wanting to be written down, if only a blog post. Like this one.

henrymitchellbooks.com

 

Comments

  1. A little less than a month ago, I committed myself to at least three pages a day in a journal. Someday three, sometimes four, and some six pages. Most of it has been nonsense or naval gazing self pity, but there have been a few nuggets. Yesterday I finished page 93. If nothing else, writing has become a small ritual to me, or perhaps a sort of prayer. Maybe someday it will amount to something, but if not, I will have at least put words on the page.

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