How long have you told yourself that you wanted to be a writer? How long have you put paid to that dream, that hope, that unborn creation? When will the time be right – after you do the dishes, make a few more bucks to secure the illusion of safety, finish that report, that project, that endless dithering? Don’t tell me. Tell yourself.
In the darkest hour of the longest night
If it was in my power I’d step into the light
Candles on the alter, penny in your shoe
Walk upon the water — transcendental blues
Happy ever after ’til the day you die
Careful what you ask for, you don’t know ’til you try
Hands are in your pockets, starin’ at your shoes
Wishin’ you could stop it — transcendental blues
If I had it my way, everything would change
Out here on this highway the rules are still the same
Back roads never carry you where you want ’em to
They leave you standin’ there with them ol’ transcendental blues —Steve Earle, Transcendental Blues
On the longest day, find twenty minutes. Use a line from Earle’s song and write. Please send us what emerges.
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