You’ve just graduated from the Brooklyn MFA program. What next?
Write without fulfilling an assignment. Write without comments in the margin to guide you. Write. Your heartbeat is your deadline now.
No one wants to read your writing, says Michael Cunningham. Make them be late for dinner because they can’t stop reading you.
Write this blog . You don’t know how to blog, but until you were one year old, you didn’t know how to walk, either.
Maybe you could start by learning how to use Word.Press software. Next you could thank your niece for helping to get you started.
You could share a sentence you’re recently written. You could ask your reader for a sentence back.
Here’s a sentence you recently wrote. You like it. “Clara dried the last plate and hung the dish towel over the oven door handle.”
Another: “Though his parents had wired the house back at the time of rural electrification, Raymond still maintained the habit of working and reading in natural daylight right up to the moment he had to admit it was finally dark.” You like that one, too.
Here are two sentences you like from Willa Cather’s Lost Lady: “Instantly before his eyes rose the image of a pair of shoulders that were very broad, objectionably broad, clad in a frogged overcoat with an astrachan collar. The intrusion of this third person annoyed him as they went slowly back up the hill.”
You have just written your first post. You feel like a post. The kind of post that has a gate swinging from it. The gate sometimes squeaks. That’s okay. Squeaks can be turned into sentences.