The next item on my schedule is rewriting/editing a piece I hate. I consider it a fail. Surprise, surprise, it has been languishing in my short story draft file. I don’t hate the premise, but the story’s execution is weak. There are words, sentences, ideas I may salvage. It requires me to roll up my shirt sleeves, prepare for construction dust, and do Atlas-style weightlifting.

I considered hitting the delete key, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It is funny. I have burned entire notebooks, filled with handwritten stories, without hesitation. But deleting a file is anathema. From a logic standpoint, the pen, ink, and paper creations should be more difficult to destroy than impersonal electronic I’s and O’s. Perhaps it is the fact that those files don’t clutter my desk, occupy real-life space, and are easy to move to my “Fix Someday” Folder.

I have several of these files in that folder. A few stories have merit, good ideas, a likable character, conflict, the stuff you want in a compelling story. But they lack the spit and polish needed to shine, and for me to declare the tale good enough for prime time. While I may like these stories, the prospect of dissecting, cutting, reworking, and rehashing them, is unpleasant. However, I want them finished, which leaves me little choice on what I must do.

Do you rewrite, edit, delete, or file for someday?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Admit it. You have had horrendous, awful coffee, and you have had coffee so divine you swear you hear angels singing as you sip. This weekend’s cooler temperatures are the vanguard announcing the official start of fall on Tuesday. Increased ragweed pollen and leaf mold trigger itchy eyes, runny noses, and the ever-present headache. I have tried every allergy medication on the market with varying benefits and many undesirable side effects. My go-to home remedy is my morning cup of Joe.

I’m not a coffee snob, and I have drunk my share that is anemic and watery, or so strong it almost required chewing. I have had vile, bitter brews that induced full-bodied shudders, and foul-tasting stale, metallic, or burnt, crude crud. The worst insult is when they serve coffee cold. Still, terrible coffee is better than facing the day empty-handed.

Mornings pose countless challenges, especially when you factor in my inability to function well until after the first jolt of caffeine hits my bloodstream. Long ago, I learned the best strategy is to idiot-proof the preparation by staging for a resounding victory. The night before, I prep the kitchen counter. Clean pot? Check. Filtered water? Check. Beans, burr grinder, and measuring spoon? Check, check, and check. Is everything staged and ready for the decaffeinated zombie me? Perfect. With any luck, it won’t be an epic fail.

How do you set yourself up for success?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The poor unicorn is a much-maligned and misunderstood creature. Whether you believe the unicorn is a case of mistaken identity, and it is a rhinoceros, a narwhal, a long-extinct beast, or merely a myth, he has survived for centuries. Accounts surfaced in ancient Greek mythology and circled the globe. From the Mediterranean to India and China to Chile, it is the stuff of legends.

For me, magic and legend present as two sides of a coin minted with equal parts history, and fantasy, mixing reality with imagination. The stories depict a ferocious brute who refused capture. When hunted, it would jump off a high cliff. The unicorn allowed the power concentrated in its glittering head ornament to absorb the impact and let it escape unscathed.

I like the idea of collecting negative energy in an enchanted chalice can save a unicorn’s life. It is easy to pretend I am a unicorn when confronted with self-doubt, the dreaded imposter syndrome, or when well-meaning friends take potshots at my goals. I collect the distressing thoughts, deposit them in my sparkling, magical unicorn horn, and watch them disappear. Then, I open my document and write.

How will you use your unicorn superpowers?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Please don’t force me to wake before daybreak, turn on a bright screen, and create. I am not a morning person. I bear no resemblance to anything remotely human until after my second cup of coffee. My grunts and groans are unintelligible, stringing two words together is an impossibility, concocting a coherent sentence — well, that’s not happening. I have learned to avoid my weaknesses.

Before the pandemic, Friday night dinner plans were a ritual. I looked forward to an enjoyable way to mark the week’s end. I met my friends, enjoying wonderful meals while we discussed the latest happenings and shared juicy gossip. We told jokes, laughed, and celebrated the highs and lows of what was once normal life. Many nights I came home to my laptop, and with a burst of energy, I would write dawn tinted the sky.

On the rare occasions when our schedules conflicted, I considered it a small sacrifice to stay home and write. It was pure bliss. Ordering carry-out was a decadent, self-indulgent treat that let me write to my heart’s content. No cooking or cleaning meant I could kick back and indulge my passion for writing.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and tonight I am missing the joy of dinner with my dear friends.

Do you write on Friday night?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Do you rejoice on Monday morning and sigh when Friday afternoon arrives? Or have I got those days flip-flopped? Letting work’s negative aspects wheedle their way into daily life can happen without us realizing it. We have all been there. Seeking success, we let our job consume every waking moment. We fill hours with “doing,” toiling at positions we detest while we dream of being free.

Imagine a sphere containing duties and an endless list of assignments, tasks, jobs, and obligations. Requirements we feel we must do. A second circle encompasses fun, pleasure, laughter, and wonder. This world is filled with free will choices and playful options. If we are lucky, those two areas intersect like a Venn diagram. The intersection blends the two worlds, and the differences between work and play merge. Struggles become an exciting challenge, and enjoyment creates a light workload.

Discovering meaningful employment that makes you happy is a difficult task. Making enough to eke out an existence is easy, and it is the reason many opt for the security it offers. Minimum risk yields little delight.

How will you enrich the world?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I possess a kingdom like Alcott’s. It is a hidden kingdom, full of deep thoughts, raw emotions, and heartfelt feelings kept under lock and key. The kingdom’s inhabitants are unruly. They laugh uncontrollably, they weep, they scream in anger and frustration, and they love with every ounce of their souls.

The warden of the kingdom has a daunting task. The warden must keep them contained, quiet, and hidden. Perhaps the warden should let them run free, their reward for good behavior. Released to the wild, we can observe their reactions, capture, and capitalize on their emotions. These emotions, thoughts, and feelings are brilliant fodder for when I am writing.

How do you access emotions for your writing?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci represent two exceptionally creative minds. Masters, geniuses, prolific renaissance men, they were also famous for abandoning their work and leaving potentially more impressive masterpieces unfinished. A pair of monumental frescos commissioned for the great hall of Florence’s Palazzo Vecchio are prime examples. Leonardo’s The Battle of Anghiari and Michelangelo’s Battle of Cascina were started in 1504 and abandoned a year later. They never completed the frescos.

Every writer, architect, painter, and entrepreneur has experienced failure. Failing teaches us, even if the lesson is how not to create. The title Master implies we finish what we start. Finishing, calling a piece complete, might prove to be more difficult than admitting defeat. Creating masterful art is not for mortals or weaklings. Anything crafted by humans will be flawed. Some critics argue flaws accentuate beauty. Flawless execution, whatever that is, they say, leaves the viewer bored.

How do we decide were incomplete ends and masterful imperfection begins? How many drafts do you endure before a story is polished? When do we edit the unique voice and soul from our novel? There is no easy answer, and passing time compounds the difficulties. Your best work from years ago can feel worse than your first draft today.

When is your work done?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Is it any wonder our ancestors developed speech? Hand gestures, while they convey meaning, have a limited range. Where did languages originate? Do words define a language, or do languages dictate words? What was the first word ever spoken? Was it a name, an obscenity, or a sound signifying “Stop, Danger ahead?” It’s all speculation, and while linguists float many theories, they are, most likely, all wrong.

The dichotomy supports the idea that words are magical creatures. A single word can cut to the core and divide people into irreconcilable sides. Conversely, uttering a different word soothes the savage beast and makes everyone smile. Words can sing or sting, elevate or oppress, bind us to tradition or free our minds to create change.

They possess energy and power. Vocabulary stocks the toolbox with ways to express the abstract thoughts swimming in our heads. Without them, great ideas live unfulfilled lives, trapped in an imaginary world far from reality. Lacking communication, we have limited perceptions, and with it, the universe is our domain. What we do with the words we learn is an awesome responsibility, one that demands we remain mindful of their impact.

Which words will you choose today?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It rarely happens anymore, but when it does, I freeze. Someone asks me to complete a form, sign a birthday card, or jot a note. Heaven forbid when a document requires my actual signature. My longhand is pretty much illegible to anyone but me. In school, my classmates never asked to borrow my notes more than once. It made sense to me, but when I looked at their elegant script, I hid my paper. I grew tired of losing exam points and experiencing the walk of shame to the teacher’s desk to explain that I had the correct answer.

I rejoiced when teachers required typed submissions since the font removed judgment and censor. Times New Roman masked my personality, and the personal secrets revealed in my script. My words stood on their merit, untainted by the reader’s assumptions and their inability to decipher my scrawl. The ink color, the angle of my slant, the size of my loops, or my sentences rising as they cross the page no longer came into question.

My handwriting always draws comments, so I print in self-defense. Each word is composed of all capitals. I distinguish my capitalized letters by making them taller. I am proficient and print faster than most people write. My hand screams with annoyance, and it conveys my distaste of writing with a pen for others to analyze. Then the questions begin. Are you an architect? An engineer? A scientist? When they look at my John Hancock, they ask if I am a doctor.

What does your handwriting reveal about you?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The advice to do whatever comes next sounds easy, but it may be easier said than done. Life is complex and ever-changing, never static, or simple. But that complexity creates beauty, opportunities, and makes us unique individuals. So, how do you determine your course of action? You can apply logic, plot a path, construct a timeline, and develop detailed plans. Your map shows you exactly how to proceed. Still, you hesitate, claiming your heart isn’t in it. You might be correct.

Having doubts may signal a misalignment between your head and your heart. These are the moments to return to the drawing board and reexamine your motives. Why are you rushing? Do you need to heal? Do you lack information? Or are you afraid of taking the first steps and committing to your project? The way forward calls for clarity of your intentions and motivations. Consult with others, a mentor, a parent, a therapist, or a trusted friend, knowing they can’t answer your questions. Rather, use them as sounding boards to help you sort your emotions. Write, journal, and make your thoughts visible, then contemplate the validity of your words, and seek your truth.

Be kind to yourself and drop self-judgment. Making great wine requires grapes, a recipe, and with the work completed, what remains demands patience and waiting. It takes as long as it takes. While you wait, distract yourself with other activities, clean the house, workout, reflect, and create space for the answers to unfold from the depths of your heart.

What is next on your list?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer