There is a poem sitting in my mind, right over there, at the edge. I can see it from the corner of my eye. I know it is there. It is watching me, still hesitant. It is not quite ready to come out but I think it is safe to say that it is not leaving.
At least not unless I try to hurry it along.
I do not look at it directly but every now and then I steal a furtive glimpse. Appraising. Preparing.
I think that some things can not be rushed. I also think that discipline helps a lot with creative work. Showing up to do the work. Being ready and well warmed up when the muse strikes.
Whenever I have a poem sitting on the edge of my mind, I write other things. Poems and essays to keep the words warm on the page. I want the flow from my mind into my hand, into the ink, and onto the page to be smooth, well practised. Ongoing. I should hate to lose a good poem for lack of paper or practice.
Sometimes I hang the laundry. Or do some other busy work while I am mulling things over. In doing so, I can pretend to the poem that I am busy with something else. That I am not waiting. Not watching. I am not even paying proper attention. I am a good target. Unsuspecting. Poem, now is your time to pounce on an unsuspecting writer's mind.
Maybe it is like this:
Procrastination is good for the thinking but not for the doing. If we use it intentionally to further our thinking, it helps us. If it keeps us from doing, it hurts us.
That's why you have to sit down to write even when you believe that you have nothing to say.
Have some faith in your mind. There are thoughts on the other side of "nothing to say".
