Writing is a physical activity, not only in the small, all-important motion of your hands. For you can dictate your writing: Henry James dictated to a secretary; it’s easier these days, when you can dictate into your phone. But not only there, either, in your breath, the movement of your mouth, is writing a physical activity. Writing comes from movement. Stuck? Go for a walk or a run or a roll–move yourself. Writing is about the ability to move yourself. Words and breath and motion stimulate each other. Hence we pace a room. Joyce Carol Oates tells herself stories as she jogs, comes home and transcribes them onto the screen. She has to be one of the most prolific writers ever.

Annie Dillard talks about revision as a 9-mile hike around a table where you manuscripts spreads out. After, she says, “you go home and soak your feet.”

There are internal forces, too, in whose service we labor. The necessary words will pulse up out of you if you tap into that internal movement. The way to tap in? Begin. Write. It’s a form of pedaling, pushing against what? Gravity? Entropy? An object not yet in motion? The pace will rise as you go. Keep going. Keep writing, people say. It’s the main form of encouragement from bystanders or fellow marathoners. What else is there to say? Move. Keep moving. Look at you go.

A Practical Alphabet for Writers: Find all the letters so far at https://bookwritingworld.com/blogs/