26 January 2011

(because I've started getting up early)

There are stories in my pocket. Some are old and crumpled, like grey receipts or shopping lists, pressed into little pills of paper that have been washed too many times. I am emptying these out and throwing them away. They have stayed in my pockets for the past three years, like stones of guilt, like worry. I don’t have to unroll them and try to read the words. I don’t have to bother with them. If I make room my pockets will fill up again.

They are already filling up. There are new stories gathering there. Most of them are too new to take out—but they are there, growing. The pocket is working again. It hasn’t for years. Every day is important. Write every day and make room to think about the same things over and over. Read things that make you ready to write. Keep a pen in your pocket. Never leave the house without paper. Listen hard. Watch the light. Put it in your pocket.