arm wrestling Resistance
Urania pulled The War of Art from Typist’s shelf. Although almost every checkbox from the last six days had an entry, she felt the deeds were too small — that their output could be greater. The Muse of Determination hoped Pressfield’s prose might puff some oxygen onto their tiny ember — more time, more words, more pictures.
Calliope’s arm reached around the small of Nia’s back. She offered a gentle squeeze. “I think the addition to our morning reading stack is brilliant! Thank you. We are doing great… showing up and making progress every day.”
“Isn’t it sweeter than a pan of mocha brownies for Drawist to be creating our own illustrations? Such fun!” Thalia said through mouthful of peach. “And to think it was only a year ago that she visited The Well Within Workshop where she discovered an itch to paint pictures.”
Nia handed the Muse of Wit a napkin for her leaky lips. She made eye contact with all parties at the table before speaking — a gesture of solidarity as she was unsure how her suggestion might be received. “What if… what if we started dedicating time every day to work on the book?”
Thalia inhaled another juicy slice. “We do that already.”
“I mean…” Nia continued. “Scheduled time. As if we were showing up for a paid position. What could we do with one dedicated hour every day?”
Thalia shivered despite the sunshine on her shoulders.
“Thalia!” Cal exclaimed. “A great idea — dontcha think?”
“But, but,” the Muse of Wit stammered.
“Play will seem sweeter after a period of focused work? Butts in chairs so that poetry and hums know where to find us when we can capture them on the page?” Cal asked. “Let’s try it… for a week.”
“All of life is an experiment,” Tal remembered out loud. “Okay. This could be fun!”
A reading from The War of Art:
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