Francisco's Journal an author discusses the art of writing

Words come painfully slow. After an hour there is a paragraph that goes nowhere. Whatever it is I am trying to say has no future. It’s not so much a lack of words as a lack of vision. The mind does not accept the goodness of a sentence. Some kind of logic is missing. Or there’s too much logic. After a while I stop. The day’s “failure” makes it that much harder to start the next day. I cannot write because I am depressed. Or, am I depressed because I cannot write? All I can tell you is what I tell myself. Sometimes you need to sit and struggle. Other times you need to wait, with faith if you can muster it. You play it by ear each day. Some days you squeeze whatever you can out of yourself. A paragraph or two. A page is excellent. On other days it is better to surrender gently. Try not to despair. Avoid calling yourself names. You are precious even if you never write another word. Close your eyes and pretend you are a child at play. You are alone in your room on a rainy afternoon. No one is watching. The objective of the game is to have fun. It’s a good way to spend an hour or two. Do you remember when you started writing and you didn’t care about being brilliant or admired? There were no thoughts of publication or perfection. Do you remember when you wrote because you had to? The writing life with its ups and downs, with its green fields and deserts, can teach us many things. It has taught me what it means to be poor in spirit. I have seen the advantages of a pure heart. I have learned to mourn for as long as it is necessary and have doled out gentle mercy to myself. Even when writing is hard or when it doesn’t come there can be gain. In your waiting, depth can grow and courage. And when you write again it will be with humility and boldness. You will gratefully give what you can. The rest is not up to you.