dreams. Too listless to even know our losses, we put one
page after another, more from habit than hope.
And yet we write our morning pages because we must.
Droughts are terrible. Droughts hurt. Droughts are long,
airless seasons of doubt that make us grow, give us
compassion, and blossom as unexpectedly as the desert with
sudden flowers.
Droughts do end.
Droughts end because we have kept writing our pages.
They end because we have not collapsed to the floor of our
despair and refused to move. We have doubted, yes, but we
have stumbled on.
In a creative life, droughts are a necessity. The time in the
desert brings us clarity and charity. When you arc in a
drought, know that it is to a purpose. And keep writing
morning pages.
To write is to right things. Sooner or later—always later
than we like—our pages will bring things right. A path will
emerge. An insight will be a landmark that shows the way
out of the wilderness. Dancer, sculptor, actor, painter,
playwright, poet, performance artist, potter, artists all—the
morning pages are both our wilderness and our trail.

FAME

Fame encourages us to believe that if it hasn’t happened yet,