Often we writer's find ourselves sitting before that blank page, waiting for something to come, for that brief glimpse into Art--that unknowable space where beauty lies just out of reach, that place we yearn for in hopes of tasting the smallest morsel--but the black page stares back, void, hollow, relentless in its nothingness. And so we find ourselves slipping off the page and onto Facebook, Twitter, Instragram, Reddit, Pinterest, Youtube, etcetera etcetera etcetera. That Crazy Monkey Mind rips you away from your passion, your desire, your goal. We sit, falling down the rabbit hole into webspace (or any other time wasting ventures that produce nothing), saluting the Crazy Monkey Mind, spouting soliloquies to our master, affirming its power, "Yes sir, yes sir, you are in control, sir." Our minds, it often seems in the creative fields, control us.
I'm no meditator by any stretch of the imagination; I am also not in control of my mind, either. In order to be successful creators, we must first be successful controllers of the part of our bodies that is designed to create. Because it will do it's own creating without your saying so. And nothing will get done.
Become friends with your mind, and your writing will improve exponentially.