Barb Wallace shared a lesson about writing from her brain damaged cat today.
Be warned- if you are a cat lover, have a tissue ready, if you’re not a cat lover, be prepared to be squicked out.
I hope you think the story is worth it- I did!
The think that’s struck me, thinking about Squeak’s story, is the zen-like paradox of it. To reach the place where Squeak had the chance to get better, they had to accept that he might never get better, that this might be as good as it got, and yet not give up on him.
I’m just thinking how liberating that might be for my writing. To take the pressure off, to write as if publication didn’t matter. To take risks and write wild rather than write what I think fits in, will be acceptable. To keep on writing and submitting, but less attached to my hoped for outcome. I’d love to just be able to be with what is when it comes to my writing, the way Barb and her husband were with Squeak.
How would it be different if I just wrote everyday but didn’t worry about word counts? How would it be different if I wrote a story that resonated with me rather than a story that tried too hard to tick the right boxes? How would it be different if I let myself be where I am right now with my wrtiting, instead of constantly telling myself I should be somewhere else?