Writers write.

This simple premise covers everything I need to know about our craft.

The axiom provides all the cover I need to shut out the world and pretend I fulfill my purpose merely by sitting down with a few trusty instruments.

A Parker Jotter.

A Moleskine Cahier.

A keyboard, perhaps.

But the platitude, it turns out, may also serve as an excuse.

The idea that ‘writers write’ allows me to pretend that writers don’t also research, don’t also listen, don’t also talk.

It allows me (and this is humility rather than arrogance) to rebuff external stimuli in favor of revealing the internal monologue for external consumption on paper.

So, it seems, writers must also confront.

Faced with numerous challenges—inspiration, the accusatory blank page, the flood of stimuli, conclusions, lies, and prattling of others—writers confront internal chaos to establish order and purpose and reason.

This week I will also confront my silent proclivity. This week I will talk about writing. This week I will accept what others have to say about writing as part of a writers’ group.

I have no idea what they will talk about. I have no idea what I will say. I just know that when we get together, we will be talking about writing.

##