the rhythm of enchantment

For me anyway, the writing life is like a song. It sways a wild way from the uncertain first breath into sound, through magic, to the satisfaction of an ending which encompasses the whole.

And then, silence.

I know this, I have lived this for decades. That doesn't make the rhythm easy to cope with, sometimes. The weeks when everything around me echoes with the one song of the story I'm thinking. Other rhythms breaking, dust gathering, as I can not help but focus on writing. And the songless between-times which make me feel like my pulse has been muted. (For what writer does not beat word, word, word, through their body's blood?)




These past couple of days, I have begun to gather delicate strands of strange new music. And the whole world hums again with story magic. Everything has deeper meaning once more. Everything is itself and all its mythic possibilities, its shapes and shadows suggesting elements for a fairytale.

A tale-teller does not make the world enchanted. They simply talk about the enchantment of the world.

Here in the beginning hour, I understand all over again what I will no doubt forget again when the silence comes again : it's not me composing songs. It's me listening to the world's magic music, and writing it down. Silence is not a loss of story, it is the heart of the story; it is the magic breathing in between dream and promise.

All to often we forget that we have to stop a moment and breathe in.

Speaking of music, I am in love with this beautiful, haunting song by A Mermaid in the Attic (and all the rest on her list.) It really is astonishing how talented some people are.

1 comment:

  1. We need storytellers and writers to remind us of the magic of the world.

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