May I write beautiful, heart-stopping prose today. And if not, may I write five hundred words.
May I leap into the unconscious river of creativity with my mind and heart wide open.
May my writing be rich with the strange details of my day – the Grateful Dead sticker on an abandoned wheelchair, the old dog sprawled in the sun on the winery porch, the eyes of the child in a passing stroller.
May I find a hidden cabinet of treasures in my mind, filled with precious thoughts. May I weave them together into a captivating quilt.
May the angels perch nearby and whisper stories in my ear.
May my novels sail out into this wild world, blown by a divine wind and fall into the right hands.
May my characters come to my door, ring the bell, let themselves in, raid my fridge, drink my wine, get drunk, and spill their secrets on my table. May I remember to write them down.
May my fellow writers be a tribe of word warriors, eager to champion one another’s work, celebrating their successes wantonly, bandaging the wounded with scraps of poetry, breaking through the massive ramparts of publishing , and sheltering one another when the light of fame gets too bright.
May my readers open their coffers and buy books, open their mouths and speak of the books, open their laptops and write reviews, and open my heart with their notes of encouragement.
May my first line be stellar, my arc complete, my characters adequately flawed, my sentence structure varied, my climax climactic, and my ending poignant. May it feel like the end came too soon.
May I write with ease.
And if not, may I write.