From Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life (pg. 58)

October 17, 2008

Who will teach me to write? a reader wanted to know.

The page, the page, that eternal blankness, the blankness of eternity whiich you cover slowly, affirming time’s scrawl as a right and your daring as a necessity; the page, which you cover woodenly, ruining it, but asserting your freedom and power to act, acknowledging that you ruin everything you touch but touching it nevertheless, because acting is better than being here in mere opacity;the page, which you cover slowly with the crabbed thread of your gut; the page in the purity of its possibilities; the page of your death, against which you pit such flawed excellences as you can muster with all your life’s strength: that page will teach you to write.

There is another way of saying this. Aim for the chopping block. If you aim for the wood, you will have nothing. Aim past the wood, aim through the wood; aim for the chopping block.

**I try to read a little from Annie Dillard’s book , which is made up of fragmented anecdotes and advice about writing, every few nights. Her musings, her frustrations, her process, her goals, her attitude about writing are so extremely relatable. It’s such a great help, friend, anchor for me and my writing. Get the book– I bet you can find a nice, gently worn used copy at your local used bookstore. Put those mini post-it notes in it to mark your favorite passages. Keep it on your nightstand so you can turn to it at night, before bed, when you’re mind is still racing with ideas and fear and frustration and dreams about your writing.