This quote by the American Poet Mary Oliver has always rung true to me.
“If Romeo and Juliet had made their appointments to meet, in the moonlight-swept orchard, in all the peril and sweetness of conspiracy, and then more often than not failed to meet — one or the other lagging, or afraid, or busy elsewhere — there would have been no romance, no passion, none of the drama for which we remember and celebrate them. Writing a poem is not so different—it is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind. They make appointments with each other, and keep them, and something begins to happen. Or, they make appointments with each other but are casual and often fail to keep them: count on it, nothing happens.”
My life has been rather disrupted by life’s upheavals and a recent move, so I’ve done little writing for the past few months. But it’s time to get back to it.
I no longer have a study, having moved from a two- to a one-bedroomed apartment. But I’ve become quite comfortable running much of my new life from the kitchen table, where I have good light, space to spread out, and the teapot close at hand.
Now is the time to assert a little discipline, to strengthen my resolve to get back to it, and to apply my seat to the chair and not get up until I’ve sweated a little blood.
A few other writers I’ve talked to about my recent hiatus and the challenge of getting back to work have suggested that I will start to write again when I’m ready. I tend to think I will only be ready once I do get back to work.
I can think about the projects languishing in my drawers all I like. I can talk about writing from dawn to dusk. But until I make an appointment to work, and keep it – nothing will happen.