I’ve always loved this quote on writing from E.L. Doctorow:
“It’s like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
Except. Right now. In the midst of the ugliest first draft I have ever ever ever ever tried to wrestle; I feel like I am writing in complete darkness. I can’t see what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to leave it alone either. I’m trapped.
It’s like I am writing in the belly of the whale. Read this poem to see exactly what I’ve been doing.
THINGS TO DO IN THE BELLY OF THE WHALE
By Dan Albergotti
Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life’s ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.
Here’s wishing you lots of light.
Sarah Tomp
WRITING ON THE SIDEWALK
Writing on the sidewalk 
Sarah, oh wow, that poem is extraordinary. Perfect. It makes my heart ache but there is also something…I don’t know…hopeful about it. Maybe because it is, despite the dark, despite the desperation, a call to act, to move, to contemplate, to be…
You will find the tiny pinprick of light you need to walk a few steps ahead, a then you will find more light, and take more steps…
I believe this.
You help me hope…
That’s alI I can say.
xxxooo
You have an extraordinary wacky sense of humor. Focus on the toes.
I know you will puzzle out your story once you are not looking at it straight on.
Thinking of you thinking.
The toes knows! Thinking of you thinking of me thinking of…
Sort of like driving in the fog to a vague but powerful destination. You have been compelled to go there. You can only see the rear lights of the car or truck just ahead of you. Here’s wishing you all the light you need to get there.
Thanks so much Anne! I know you’ve made this kind of drive before, right?
You can do it, Sarah! I believe in you. So so much!
Not sure why, but thanks! xxoo
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