When one’s not writing poems — and I’m not at the moment — you wonder how you ever did it. It’s like another country you can’t reach.
Is anyone else like this? I have marching orders in hand (edits on my novel from the King of San Francisco), I've thought them over and know what I want to do... and now I just have to jump back in. But this is always the hardest thing for me. Starting. In terms of story, and also in terms of the simple mechanical process. Opening up a file. Hitting those keys. One, two, three...
It's hard to get back in.
I always look for clues, but sometimes you find yourself at the edge of an abyss, standing on the cliff's edge, the wind pulling at you and singing of the stones far below. And that's when you have to fall back and trust in the wisdom of Indiana Jones. The leap from the lion's head...
Sometimes it's simply a matter of faith. You have to jump. You have to believe there really is a bridge there, even if your eyes deceive you.
Leap from the lion's head. The cup of life lies beyond.
And having a big whip helps, too. Just in case.