When life gets difficult — and especially when it gets difficult — write. Write every day. No matter what. Get that flow.
Easier said than done, I’m learning. I’m fixated.
On the table, salt-and-pepper shakers served as towers of demarcation, posted in between his hugging hands and her reddening elbows, and I watched from the sidelines, my body floating above the demilitarized zone and listened to them talk about writing and its place inside anxious minds.
“The world is sick,” he said.
“But the world’s always been sick,”she replied, “People have always died. Wars always fought. Presidents in shame, hearts dimmed. But underneath those dark skies, writers wrote.”
So I left and I wrote.