This pen in my hand

There's something about grasping this pen, holding it in my hand, 

that calms my mind, something about waking each morning 

and opening the box that holds my pens 

and selecting one and removing the cap 

and wrapping my fingers around the barrel 

that softens my heart, lets me feel connected to the world, 

as if the pen is a secure ring that I can hold onto 

while spinning on the merry-go-ground of life, 

or like the string of a kite that lets me imagine myself 

soaring into the sky, floating in the clouds. 

It's like I'm holding my mother's hand again, 

feeling safe, protected, as she leads me into the world, 

even though she's been gone for more than forty years. 

It's like a memory machine that lets me hear my grandfather's voice again 

as he sits at our kitchen table on Sunday mornings

sipping his coffee and retelling stories about growing up 

in a Polish shtetl and coming to America 

and making a life for himself. 

It's like holding a magic wand that silences the negative voices in my head, 

and all I need to do is wave it over the blank pages of this journal 

and words will appear, like these words, which came out of the blue, 

out of thin air, out of nowhere, part of the mystery of the way writing works, 

and this pen in my hand is the key to entering into this mystery, 

to opening the door to my imagination, 

to feeling connected to the secret universe hidden inside my heart. 

Endings Come to Us

Endings come to us,

sometimes freely chosen

sometimes imposed by

the laws of nature,

a road stopped by

the stones of a cliff

or the edge of a lake.

You might run out of

ink or forget your pen

or come to the last

page of your notebook

and decide it’s time

for ending what you started

months ago.

Or you might wake up

with the line “Today’s

the day I end the

project,” and know

you’ll write to the 

end of the hour and

put down your pen

and it will be over.

You might laugh at the

notion of ending, asking

why should anything that

you enjoy so much

have to end, and

keep writing each

morning, writing as long

as your pen inspires

words to come through

you to the page.

Maybe the decision

isn’t in your hands.

Maybe you continue

until the well dries up

or the ink is used

or the paper gone.

Maybe it never ends,

even after the ending

comes, the words still

spinning in your head,

the joy of writing

never ending.

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Keep the Pen Moving

Keep the pen moving.

It’s a skill that you need to learn.

When you’re first beginning, it’s hard to keep the pen moving.

You search for the right word, grope for the appropriate image, hunt for the proper tone.

You hesitate, worrying about what a reader might think of your work. 

You fear making a mistake. 

You sit staring at the paper and wait for the story to write itself, but, of course, it won’t write itself.

You may have no idea of where your story is going or what you want to say.

So you think you have nothing to write, no path to follow.

But here’s what you need to remember: each time you set out to write, you carve a new path.

Only the path won’t appear if you are critical or judgmental.

The first thing you need to do is to let go of notions of "good" and "bad."

You need to be willing to write down whatever comes out of your mind and accept it and let go.

  

Without judgment.

Keep the pen moving.

Let words come.

Let words emerge, whatever words they might be, however silly or foolish or ridiculous or mysterious the words may sound.

Over time you'll learn this and then you'll forget it and you'll need to keep re-learning it.

Keep the pen moving.

No pauses.

No stopping to think.

Just keep writing.

Even if all you write is keep writing or don’t stop or this sounds like the ranting of a lunatic, keep writing

What emerges once you let go of your critical censor will surprise you.

You will reach beneath the surface of language and will find a place where words emerge and images and scenes play on the screen of your imagination.

If you keep the pen moving, you will find the words you need.

But only if you learn how to suspend your critical eye and cease judging the words that flow from your pen.

Keep the pen moving.