She sleeps like a dead weight now beside me, lowered into the night, the ropes of the day swaying around her. We know nothing about each other really. She does not know how often my ex-lover visits me ... [+]
Writing is like unraveling a knot. It always seems to turn out that the twistiest jumbles are easiest to pick apart, while the simplest snarls morph into a recursion of stuck-fast loops in loops. To ensure our efforts are not for naught, we ought to be clear what a knot is or what it's not.
After all, sometimes a knot is not a knot. Many are tangles, more are bows ― and the unraveling is how we make sense of those.
Ah, the multicursal knot. Is it a tightness in the belly that concerns the doctor, a bottleneck in the doorway from some impatient kids, the clots in your state-of-mind during a tricky pop quiz, a unit of speed for sailors to mark their travels, a link that couples tie to seal the bonds of marriage, a hidey-hole for birdies formed in the blemish of a tree, a kink in the muscle for the masseuse to knead?
The first step to writing is often not the writing, but unraveling its purpose ― how should I do it, for whom, to what end? Writing is like unraveling a knot because once done, we are free to weave something greater than the challenge it represented: a new line of thinking, a web of relationships, a net to catch the imagination, a mesh of perspectives, a tress of the braid in a work of art. Your approach makes all the difference, for there are no Gordian Knots.
After all, sometimes a knot is not a knot. Many are tangles, more are bows ― and the unraveling is how we make sense of those.
Ah, the multicursal knot. Is it a tightness in the belly that concerns the doctor, a bottleneck in the doorway from some impatient kids, the clots in your state-of-mind during a tricky pop quiz, a unit of speed for sailors to mark their travels, a link that couples tie to seal the bonds of marriage, a hidey-hole for birdies formed in the blemish of a tree, a kink in the muscle for the masseuse to knead?
The first step to writing is often not the writing, but unraveling its purpose ― how should I do it, for whom, to what end? Writing is like unraveling a knot because once done, we are free to weave something greater than the challenge it represented: a new line of thinking, a web of relationships, a net to catch the imagination, a mesh of perspectives, a tress of the braid in a work of art. Your approach makes all the difference, for there are no Gordian Knots.