I'd like to make a mini-rant this morning about inspiration v. perspiration.
Most writers love the zip of the inspire part and hate the slog of perspire. That's understandable. We live for the highs not the lows. The white heat of the moment when a idea is sparking, not the long, slow unwinding of those sparks, the dampening of that fire, the cooling of the embers.
I'll never forget the first time I read the quote "I dream of an eagle, give birth to a hummingbird." in an Edith Wharton biography, a favorite phrase of hers. It made me understand myself and my difficult relationship with the work I do.
All art is about failure. But some failures are more glorious than others. And along the way, along the slogline, we get to try and make that failure better. And better. And God help us, better.
Remember, the hummingbird, too, is beautiful. And it flies.
No comments:
Post a Comment