Ten Things To Consider For The New Year

  1. Each Day is a New Beginning just like spring is for baseball.
  2. Each Day is a story being told as we move through it. It has a beginning, a middle and an end.
  3. Expectations are like footsteps that will lead into a Danger Zone. There are a heck of a lot of landmines out there.
  4. For all I know about writing, I know nothing. I have to accept my ignorance and move on into the darkness.
  5. Every stranger I meet very well may be a friend. Or just a stranger.
  6. Shadows are Nature’s way of saying, “Be careful. You might get sunburn.”
  7. When I’ve lost my eye glasses, the best place to look is on my face.
  8. When driving, remember the Stop Light was put there for a purpose.
  9. If wishes were horses, I’d probably have a bunch of donkeys.
  10. The difference between a pessimist and an optimist: When a pessimist is surprised, it’s a good thing. When an optimist is surprised, it’s a bad thing.

 

 

It’s 6:52 a.m.

“It’s 6:52 a.m.,” the Boy said to his God.

“No, it’s 6:52 and a half,” God said to His Boy. “And it will never be 6:52 a.m. this October 9, 2016 again. Boy, what did you do with your 6:52?”

Fermenting

One of my favorite words is fermenting. It’s such a fine word. Letting something sit on the brain and allowing the subconscious to work on it. That’s fermenting for you. I get a line like: “I am a horse, have always been a horse, would always be a horse. Until the witch turned me into a boy.”

The first thing that happens: I am startled. Where did a line like that come from? I don’t know but I am ready to follow wherever it leads. Whatever dance it chooses to perform.

Now some may think I should whip it into shape, make it become what my little pea-sized brain wants.

But that’s not the way of the tao, as Laotse let us know over twenty-five centuries ago. I let it go fermenting. I stick it in the back of my mind, check in every so often. Used to think I was the only one who did this. Then I heard the playwright Edward Albee talk. He said that he will get an idea, stick it away to allow the subconscious to work on it. Check in six months later and see where the idea has flown. Then back into the subconscious again. He does this over a two-year period. Eventually it is full-grown, and a work of art.

After a bit of fermenting, I pull it out for the old look-see. Just so you know, a bit may be six months, sometimes shorter, sometimes more. Nope, it’s not ripened and back into the old subby-conscious it goes, tucked away in the cool, dark places where it gets a chance to grow healthy. From time to time, I pull it out for some nourishment.

Once the idea is ready for the garden, I take it out into the warm sunlight of consciousness. Water it some. Feed it some plant food. And off it sprouts. Soon I have a full-blown work.

It takes a lot of patience for fermenting. It is well worth the time I give it. Look at what it did for Ernest Hemingway, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen. What a lot of writers blame on writer’s block, I call fermenting, giving a work time to sprout muscles and spread its roots.

So be patient. Do some fermenting.

Do you have a favorite word?