You know those days when writing feels like a stone? It's too heavy to carry, like all the images in your mind, all the dialog and small moments between characters?

It could be used for violence, if you had a mind for that, or to build something useful.

The writing stone could be set down, in favor of something lighter.

It could be picked up and mined for its precious qualities.

When writing's like a stone, it's time to be still. To allow yourself the time to be, completely.

Today, as I move through my next book, I have to get to the crux, the pit, the hard stone at the very center of my words.

Inside that hard covering is something softer, which can grow into something beautiful if it's nurtured in dirt.