My life lately has been centered around writing... I wake up at 2:44 (precisely) nearly every night with insomnia and a story running around in my brain, preventing me from going back to sleep. So, I get up and spend two-four hours typing out what usually turns out to be the first chapter of a book! I have five "first chapters" written now, which have received very kind words and encouragement (to finish) from two college English professors and a former Harper-Collins previewer!
You would think that, the next night, I would wake up with the second chapter all ready to be written out...but, Noooo...it's always something different! At this rate I may never finish a single one of them! :)
Recent musings from the inspiration word "edges":
“Edges” Use a phrase from the poem by Allen Tate (1922)
“…some futile things unsaid” will languish in my mind all my life. How often when young did I neglect to see what was needed in that moment… Not because someone asked for my thoughts, but because I could sense what I should have said, unprompted.
But youth is hesitant, fearful of appearing to overstep, to make assumptions and comments that might not be appreciated as they were meant.
There are some advantages to aging… Experience tells us to speak up, to throw away potential embarrassment as useless to communication.
Step over that edge.
“More Edges”
In singing, there are edges that one must step over. When we are rigid, we hold a certain position. That shouldn't happen when singing. Every note is its own entity, and to hold one set of muscles that stop working when change must occur, when the edge, the passageway, the Passagio is reached, we must give up all control, all resistance, and step over into a new way of singing…
Or we will not go on.
Cheers, Nance