It is the writer's privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart.
In his book, The War of Art, which is usually the first book I recommend to any aspiring writer, Steven Pressfield writes, "“The most important thing about art is to work. Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying.” This truth keeps me marching back into my writing room day after day, knowing that there is simply no substitute for sitting my butt in the chair and getting to work.
I have a list of song ideas, musical ideas, books, and other projects that I check regularly. It's a constant reminder that I have no excuse for ever thinking I have nothing to work on. The issue is more likely that I have moments when I don't feel creative. That's when perspiration must take the lead until inspiration kicks in. And like a faithful friend who shows up just when I need them, most days, inspiration shows up. Not every day, but most days. It seems like the more I write, the more I have to say. It isn't always poetic, brilliant, or worth sharing with the world, but it's something.
This past week included a couple of online co-writes, but mostly a whole lot of time hammering out a script. I am growing to love the characters and while I know where the story is headed, crafting the dialogue and watching the story unfold has been so stinkin' much fun. And hard. But good. Those are the best moments, honestly. Putting in the work, enjoying the process, and liking the results.
Seeing the calendar and knowing that June is half over makes me realize how quickly this Summer of Songs is going to fly by, and it makes me sad. Mid-August will come, I'll head back to work, and writing time will once again be limited. That will really make me sad. But for now, I will sit my butt back in the chair and get to work. At the end of day, I will choose to be grateful for this season. Tomorrow, I will get up and sit my butt back in the chair again and do the work.