Some time ago a writer friend of mine named Jean suggested a book called Walking on Alligators: A Book of Meditations for Writers by Susan Shaughnessy.  Each page begins with a quote from an author, then a brief essay and finally an exercise.  I decided to turn to a random page, read it and perform the exercise.  What follows is from page 77.  The quote was by Joseph Wambaugh: 

“I’m looking for something to write about, waiting for something to happen.  I’m waiting patiently like a hunter in a duck blind, waiting for the ducks to fly over.”

The exercise at the bottom was this:

“Today, I will spend time sitting quietly, ready to write.  I will listen for the beat of wings.”

Here’s the result, entirely unedited:

Searching for the perfect position.  Carefully.  That’s it. 
As soon as you are centered: begin to write.  Write to write.  You’re worrying too much about punctuation right now.  Every letter is an S.O.S.  I wonder if the punctuation is perfect.  Yup.  I can’t find center.  Sorry.  Everything is slightly slanted.  Slightly off.  Or. On.  But certainly not centered. 
I just gave myself a little test. 
As I watch myself write, I know when I’ve made a mistake.  And I immediately check to see where it is.
When I don’t look, I check when I don’t have to.
This has provided caution to my communication.  I always edit.
To create that which I want to be perfect.

To be perfect.  How elitist. 
We strive for the least common denominator now.  To be better is to be a sell out.  But sometimes we do sell out.  And we hate ourselves…eventually.  And then we learn to live with it, and in twenty years from now, we’re going to hate ourselves.  No matter what.

If you hate someone, you’re relying on their love to put out the fire.  If you love them, you require nothing.

Once upon a time, there were perfect people.  People whose paths we are expected to follow.  Are our biographies more important than our lives?  Were they perfect?  They must have been, because if they weren’t, we’re screwed.

By which I mean we’ve invested so much in what we were taught to believe, we can’t believe anything else.  We can’t fold this hand and wait for the next; we already know how it’s going to end.  All in!  And we pray for the right cards.  I wish we knew what the right cards were. 

I really enjoy proper punctuation, damn it!

My stomach burns.  Good or bad.  If it’s really something, I feel it in my throat.  That must be what they call “A Fire In My Belly.”  Surely, that must be an instinct or something.  I guess it’s up to me whether I like it or not. 

Remember when being unsure meant that you were doing the right thing.  Wasn’t that “unknown” very liberating.  Where has that gone?*  The farther into the game, the greater the urge to win.  It’s time to go with what you know for better or for worse; win or lose.  So cavalier and yet so afraid to lose. Am I that confident in the path, that afraid of that which is not paved…or both?** 

*First question:  It’s where you left it. 

**Second question:  Yes.

-Dylan