It happens every year and you don’t need me to tell you: there comes a time when the palette of frost and mud and brittle branch turns to green, and spring springs.
Miranda Priestly is not impressed, and I suspect, neither are you.
How do you write spring? How do you write resurrection? How do you write love or loss, joy, peace, surprise, or fear, or any of the seasons of the human heart?
None of this originated with us. None of us are the first to have ever discovered snowdrops poking through the rust pine needles, or daffodils lifting their fine heads. None of us can claim to be the first to have our hearts broken, or to experience the bliss of meeting your newborn child.
If our writing expressions are merely same song, different verse, how can we proof our work against the dull ache of cliché?
If this strikes a nerve, I hope you’ll join me for next week’s LIVE Studio Session dedicated to these very questions. Studio Sessions are an exclusive offering for paid subscribers—you’re welcome to join and/or cancel at any time.
Full info and invite below!
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