We have about us only the unseen country road: the unseen twigs, breaking their tips with blossoms. —Ezra Pound
You, my companions in writing, contain vast unseen landscapes. You contain country roads and city alleys; ferocious waves beating on a shoreline and a mountain pond with water so still it might be glass. You contain a face’s terrain, a face seen by moonlight and noon glare, in hard weather and soft, twisted in pain and seeming to glow with joy.
It is often essential to leave the seen world long enough to occupy the galaxy inside your mind. If you read Breakthrough Writing often, you know there are easy and not-so-easy ways to make that departure and arrival. If you are new to this website – or a regular reader/writer, give yourself a gift: set a timer for thirty minutes in a place where you won’t be interrupted. Have a notebook and pen at hand. Start the timer. Do nothing. (Meditation is doing something.) When the timer goes off, write whatever landscape you have been occupying. Use this opening sentence: I’ve just returned from…
I’d love to see what you find. Only you have the map to that unseen landscape. We can only travel to those places in those times if you write them.
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