Read aloud. Walk around your house and read your way through the ceiling. Ceilings are boring. The sky is more interesting. Read outwards. Have a conversation with what you write. Be prepared to risk the embarrassment. Others may think you’re mad, but that is perfectly all right — sanity is over-rated. You need to hear the rhythm of your words. The repetitions. The assonance. The alliteration. The onomatopoeia. The music of it all. Be John Coltrane. Toni Morrison. Gerard Manley Hopkins. Find the inscape of your language. Create new words. The dappled dawnness. The world is not yet finished. There is no end to language. You are suddenly out of your house. Find the dusk and the gloom too. Fill your lungs with it. It’s the only way you’ll negotiate the light. Be worried. It’ll fall dark again soon too.
Letters to Young Writers | Young Writers Archive