The edge, the in between. The beginning, a transition, a threshold. Liminal is not linear. There are worlds to cross, worlds to merge. You live in between all the demands on you, all the certainties and somedays, the what ifs that haunt our days with their absences. Your writing thrives in a liminal space, too, the one between asleep and awake, between afraid and utterly sure.
Find the rhythm of your liminal truths, the edges, the starts, the changes. Find the boundaries that will produce hybrid questions and answers full of the energy of cross-currents, rip tides. Begin before you know where you’re going, without any answers, with the questions beginning to form, to bubble up into your conscious mind. Begin before you’ve found a doorway, a starting line, before the gunshot, on your mark, get set…
It’s in the act of writing that you find the contours of your liminal zone. Essays explore there. Fiction rides the hot rail of maybe-this, maybe-that. Characters are made from the zig zag blur of the also-and-but, and stories are structured for the gateways that form the habitat. Don’t be afraid of not knowing, not seeing clearly. Begin. Begin. That is the way there. You start and just by starting, you’ve arrived.