When I Wrote And Got Out Of

Nobody Cares Much Whether You Write Or Not. You Just Have To Do It

Take Out Another Notebook, Pick Up Another Pen, And Just Write, Just Write, Just Write. In The Middle Of The World, Make One Positive Step. In The Center Of Chaos, Make One Definitive Act. Just Write. Say Yes, Stay Alive, Be Awake. Just Write. Just Write. Just Write.

Writing Practice Brings Us Back To The Uniqueness Of Our Own Minds And An Acceptance Of It. We All Have Wild Dreams, Fantasies, And Ordinary Thoughts. Let Us To Feel The Texture Of Them And Not Be Afraid Of Them.writing Is Still The Wildest Thing I Know.

Original Details Are Very Ordinary, Except To The Mind That Sees Extraordinariness. It's Not That We Need To Go To The Hopi Mesas To See Greatness; We Need To View What We Already Have In A Different Way.

Our Bodies Are Garbage Heaps: We Collect Experience, And From The Decomposition Of The Thrown-out Eggshells, Spinach Leaves, Coffee Grinds, And Old Steak Bones Out Of Our Minds Come Nitrogen, Heat, And Very Fertile Soil. Out Of This Fertile Soil Bloom Our Poems And Stories. But This Does Not Come All At Once. It Takes Time. Continue To Turn Over And Over The Organic Details Of Your Life Until Some Of Them Fall Through The Garbage Of Discursive Thoughts To The Solid Ground Of Black Soil.