Give-away:Breakthrough for the week of 1/25/2020

So it went,  with safety, the more you guarded, the less you had.
—Richard Powers

I once walked along a placid river in a placid town. I was anything but placid. I had lost much, not the least of which was the mountain town that had once seemed an ordinary paradise. I walked along the river not seeing, not hearing, certainly not smelling the damp Northwestern air. My work seemed to have been taken from me. I bore witness to escalating shoddiness in too many of those who practice my craft. I sent out work. Rejections came back. An agent told me that I would have to come up with something catchy, something that would snare my former readers and reel them in.

My son came to visit. He is a writer and musician and teacher. We talked about how it feels to be an honorable worker in a work world becoming more and more dishonorable. Each day we walked along the placid river in the absence of even one easy answer.  We each knew the futility of forcing work which relies on surrender.

Our talk carried us. Our work carried us. I began to see more clearly. To hear. To breathe in the delicate wet air. One afternoon, we stopped to sit on a low gray wall along the shoreline. There was a word stenciled on the concrete. “Look.” I said. “There is the answer.”  My son laughed. “Well then,” he said, “there’s nothing to do but go to the Michoacan place and eat tacos.”
****
Your turn.
****
Here is Cin Norris, in response to a BTW invitation to write about bravery.

What is bravery?

Is it the same as courage?

Is it saying no when you’ve always said yes?

Or perhaps, the other way ’round.

My comfort zone is so small that I move outside it when I sneeze.

I’m scared to check my mail.

What is meant by bravery?

Is it submitting my writing for publication

Is it using my own name when I don’t have to

Or perhaps, the other way ’round.

If I run in front of a car to save a cat,

Or a child,

Or even a dog,

Is that brave

If I talk to friends on the phone and lie

That I’m fine,

That we’re fine,

Is that brave

My heart is not brave because it keeps beating

My eyes are not brave because they open in the morning

They do what they have to do

And care little about the cost

 

 

 

 

Share on Your Social Media

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Search My Site

Subscribe to My Blog

Copyright©2019. All Rights Reserved. The content of this writing services website is exclusively owned by Mary Sojourner (Flagstaff, Arizona). Duplication and usage of all literary writing, short stories, writing tips, writing workshops coursework, and mentoring instruction is prohibited without direct permission from the author and writing teacher.

Writing & Literary Website Designed by Reliable Web Designs.