It’s not that hard to avoid writing for hours, days, years, your whole life. It's a heavy feeling, having not written when it's one of your dreams to have a book or a screenplay or a story or a poem. It feels like failure. Like a dark silence. 

Warning: this could make you feel euphoric.

When I focus on pleasing my Facebook community or even the world. I am looking in the wrong direction. My vision is pointed outwardly, when, truly, the greatest power I can imagine is inside. 

When you see what these men can do in what I think is less than a week’s time you start believing that, for you also, anything is possible.

Corie is the queen of showing up, of saying wonderful things, of making me feel that even though selling a book copy by copy can be demoralizing work, there are bright skies because people like her are in it. Not people like her. Her.

William was more than creative: he was a magician, only instead of pulling rabbits out of a hat, as he was growing up he was pulling himself out of himself, exponentially. He just kept getting more talented, more wonderful, more surprising. 

How do you know when your life is wild, when it is precious? What did you do to get there? And what happens next?

Sometimes, when I need to remember just how much language can move me, I turn to certain poems to bring me to the heart of myself.

I love Austin. I got so drunk there two years ago I went online in the morning and looked up the recovery steps for AA.

How do you know you are talking to a real photographer without seeing her work? When she says things like I want my ashes strewn when the light is perfect.

If your digestion is an issue for you, maybe you could look at the three things you crave most, the three things you eat most, and avoid them for a week just to see if you feel any better. 

On Saturday I get to give a talk at Oleg Lougheed’s Hear Me Now conference in Austin on finding the courage to tell your story. So I’ve been thinking about the importance of courage.