“Grab the reader by the throat with the first sentence and hold them dangling there until the end of the book.”
I heard this advice, given by author Nancy Turner (These is my Words) at a writers conference several years ago and I couldn’t agree with her more. As a reader I open each new book with the anticipation of being grabbed and dangled. Succumbing to the temptation to abandon all else, because I simply can’t put a book down, is my favorite part of reading.
My injured foot has been placed on semi bed rest which means the rest of me has too. I prepared myself for it. Found a good book and told myself I could write. But without the need for careless abandonment–because I have nothing to neglect–I find my enthusiasm for both lacking. I feel stuck. And stuck isn’t working for me.
The main character in the book I’m currently reading, a Mr. Maurice Bendrix, is a writer. And–as if in answer to my adventure craving, rebellious inner child–he describes his strict writing regimen of putting down at least 500 words each and every day. 500 words with or without the need for careless abandonment. 500 words no matter what.
Alright Bendrix I hear you.
Here are my 500 words for today (minus those I’ve already written).
As spoken of in an earlier post, I’ve begun the daily practice of yoga.
Each morning I go out onto my upstairs balcony and, lying down on my yoga mat, I pray. I’d forgotten how much I love to pray outside.
As a young girl I’d sneak away into our backyard horse pasture and have the best conversations with the Lord. I find that my yoga mat prayers are deeper, more in tune and attentive–much like those from my youth.
After prayer and meditating on the glories of this beautiful world–the sound of the birds alone is enough to make my heart burst–I stretch my muscles, working out all the kinks from the day before.
I then work my way into a simple, modified sun salutation. It’s all my foot can offer right now and I practice gratitude for what it can give before collapsing into child’s pose, melting away into further meditation.
And it is enough.
I’m learning–again and again through life’s lessons–to accept ‘enough’.
‘Enough’ has meant different things at different times for me. When I surrender to and embrace ‘enough’ I’m filled with joy. ‘Enough’ reminds me to save room for God.
Right now ‘enough’ means stillness, bed rest, reading and 444 written words instead of 500.
Sorry Mr. Bendrix. But as they say,
enough is enough.