le mot juste

Let the inspiration find me working.

Let me live “The Artist’s Way”

Let these desperate truths within me burst from me one

achingly.

perfect.

word.

at a time; to tell a thousand stories that have never been told.

Maybe I’ll go for a walk.

Or buy another book.

This podcast should help.

Anything but actually writing.

The woman in the mirror, I wonder who she is? Trapped inside every day. All my life I’ve tried to set her free, chipping away just one hopeful word at a time. Then years passed without a single swing.

She is waiting for respite.

My head aches.

She is restless; suffocating.

She wants out.

She doesn’t want to wait for the perfect word any longer. She is through with waiting. Any words will do- get them out. Every pathetic word is a breath of fresh air. 

Be brave enough to be bad she whispers. Write something messy and immature and gauche- but write like your life depends on it.

Because what good is le mot juste if you’re dead?