To write well, I need to have faith in a sentence, faith that by the end of it I will know why it is I started it. It comes with some grasp (and passion for) English grammar. It comes with having written a lot of sentences that relied on little faith – boring, terse sentences that had a fully-formed plan behind them.
I hope that my passion for those sentences that come from nowhere (nowhere a synonym for faith) is not just pleasant surprise at having a sentence land before me. I hope there is something of quality about them that comes from the way they were created: from a sincerely creative place inside me.
Every place in me that is not creative seems like a wasted place. I resent the cautious places within me, those that steer me away from ideas. I fear the weak places within me, those that deter me from going further. I am so frustrated at those anxious places within me, those that use backspace, and worse – delete! – as a weapon.
There is so much that we do every day that relies on faith, so many decisions (and decisions to go out and make decisions at all), that writing becomes like a practice for life. I fear the next sentence – the quality of it, the meaning of it – but I am always better for it if I leap on it through faith than if I crawl through it with logic. I am always more moved, more taken, more encouraged to go on.