And you wonder at the miracle

The poems come in bursts

like gusts of wind

or a sudden rain shower

words spilling onto the page

coming from who knows where

your heart, perhaps,

or some other place

inside you

that's kept under lock and key

inaccessible 99% of the time

except on those days

when without knowing how

without understanding why

the key finds its way

into your hand and

you can unlock the box

and watch the page

beneath your pen

fill with words--

words you didn't expect

you'd ever find inside yourself

and you inhale a breath

and exhale words

and by the time

you take another breath

the wind has died down

the shower has ended

the box is locked again

and you wonder 

at the miracle

you just experienced--

the magic of poetry,

the mystery of words.

Replenishing the well

Lately I've shortened the time I spend writing in the morning.

In part it's an effort to re-charge my energy after a busy month and give myself a rest. The chance to rest will, I hope, help replenish the well out of which all words come. 

Every so often I think the well, which feels close to empty now, needs time to refill itself.  

I don't remember the last time I took a break. All I know is that month after month words have flowed from my pen, and that I've held the pen waiting to see what emerged. 

I never know what word will appear until its shape forms on the page beneath my pen. It's part of the mystery of how writing works.

This process of stepping into the mystery day after day, and not knowing what I'll find, is part of what keeps drawing me back to the page. 

I try not to have any expectations (just hope that I'll be able to write something). 

It's like receiving a gift, the feel of the pen in my hand, the sensation of moving the pen across the page, the sound of the nib scraping the paper, the sign of words appearing, as if by magic, on the page. 

And maybe what draws me back, too, is the simple act of leaving words behind on a page like footprints in the sand.

Evidence to show that I existed, at least for a day.

Before the waves of time wash the words away. 

The fear and magic of writing

I'm revising lightly as I go through the manuscript again, but it's not easy to face the truth of what's on paper. 

I put this off for months, and each morning I'm still putting it off, not wanting to find out if I failed, not wanting to find out if I'm a failure. 

This fear (of being a failure) runs through my veins. It's what causes my need to procrastinate. It's what keeps me away from the manuscript for days and weeks, from working on it for months, from improving it, from enjoying it. 

As soon as I manage to overcome this fear and return to the manuscript, though, I find myself absorbed by it, drawn back into that world, pulled back into the spaciousness of my imagination. 

Maybe that's what is so scary--leaving reality and its solid footing for the imaginary world, worried I'll lose myself there and never return? 

It's funny (I realized this morning as I was working on the revisions) the way holding the pen in my hand roots me to reality and takes me into the imaginary world simultaneously. 

Isn't it interesting how I can enter an imaginary world and stay rooted in this one, the "real" world, at the exact same moment?

My pen is like a talisman. Its mysterious properties let me go in two different directions at once. 

I can write my way into the world of imagination while writing words that appear on the page and remain physically present in this world, this reality. 

Maybe this is the magic of writing. 

It lets us inhabit two (or more) worlds at once. 

And maybe it's the magic of reading, too.

Go, Write!

In the beginning, the page is blank--just blue lines and white spaces.

It’s like looking into a mirror of still water.

The page serves as the release mechanism, the trigger, the catalyst for thought.

But thought itself doesn’t take place on the page.

You may look at the lines and the spaces between the lines, but what you see is the image in your head, the image that is not yet on the page.

A thought unfolds inside your head, and the page lets you see this thought, in words or pictures, as your pen or pencil move across the paper’s smooth surface, reflecting your thoughts as you set them down.

The magic of writing takes place inside your head.

And the key to writing is to touch that magic and bring it to the page.

It’s time to begin, to push aside distractions, step around obstacles, sit down, and pick up your pencil.

Let the page inspire you to reach inside yourself, to step into that still water, to touch that magic.

The year has begun.

Go, write!

On Trust and Magic

There’s a certain magic that’s part of the book-making process, a collaborative effort between author, editor, designer, and a host of others who help a book make its way into the world.

Once the writing is done and the manuscript is handed to the editor, the writer is left in the dark as the editorial team prepares the book for publication, sharing information as it becomes known at each stage of the process.

So much of the process is based on trust--trust that the writer has probed the deepest recesses of his heart, trust that the editor has understood those probings and helped the writer dig even deeper, trust that once done the editor can translate the words of the text into an equally compelling vision via the designer, trust that it will all come together as close as possible to the image of the book that the writer has formed in his or her mind.

I am one of the lucky writers. I found a sympathetic editor from the start, an editor who respected my privacy as I probed into the private regions of my heart, yet who helped me understand when I hadn’t quite articulated my feelings clearly or compellingly enough and could give a gentle nudge to point me in a different direction or to return to digging deeper but using a different implement, a spade, perhaps, instead of a pitchfork. Her name is Linda Cogozzo, and I want to thank her here, in this space, where we first met... and where, in some mysterious, magical way, the book began to take shape, unbeknownst to both of us, years ago.

All the while I was writing, I was unconsciously forming an image of the book in my mind, unaware of that image until miraculously the cover above appeared on my computer screen as an attachment that Linda sent me. Somehow she had used magic or some incantation to read my mind, and the image that I wasn’t even aware of creating over the past five years appeared before me. That’s the kind of trust that I’m talking about.

I still have yet to feel a book in my hands (though I've seen the interior layout design, which is as beautiful as the cover), to smell the paper and ink, to run my hand over the pages. But I trust that when I see the final book, I’ll feel the same awe and gratitude that I felt upon seeing the cover for the first time.

Writing Yoga is scheduled for publication in April, 2011, only a few months from now. This past week, Linda told me that it was on its way to the printer. Now I’m waiting for the day I’ll be able to share it with you, hoping you’ll take delight in its appearance and that it’ll help you delve beneath the surface of your writing to make the kind of discoveries that will bring magic into your life, too.

Until then, here's some preliminary information about Writing Yoga from the publisher, Rodmell Press, along with a link to Amazon, further evidence that the book is making its way into the world:

Writing Yoga: A Guide to Keeping a Practice Journal
Bruce Black
April 2011 | ISBN 1-930485-28-0 | $14.95
paperback + e-book | 6 x 9 | 176 pages
http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Yoga-Keeping-Practice-Journal/dp/193048528X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1294853013&sr=1-1

For more information about the book, visit: http://journalpractice.wordpress.com/

And for more information about Rodmell Press, check out: http://rodmellpress.com/