Another story about process: It’s not about the bird
My last post was about glossolalia, not really a process, more like sitting with our heart in our hands and hoping something good can come from it. Writing is about so much more than ordered words. For example, and I asked permission to share this, one of my critique group members sent along for us to read a first draft of a piece that could be defined as flash. It was about a winter’s day, along a river, walking and coming upon a heron on the other side, silent and still. He and his wife walked every day for a week and saw the heron in the exact same spot. They began to wonder: What’s wrong with it? Is it dead?! Other passersby also commented and expressed worry. His piece read like a Reddit story, not sure what was going to happen next or what the point was. Like a lot of first draft writing. Eventually the bird did fly away to the relief of the walkers, riverbank-observers. I told my critique-mate it wasn’t about the bird. The world is terrible right now. I’m not in ev...