Longing is at the heart of art. It drives story and it drives storymakers.

Longing is such a beautiful word. It feels richer, deeper, than desire. Stronger than wanting.

Like many English words, it comes from a mashup of Saxon and Germanic words – one, from the old German, verlangen, meaning ‘to desire’. The other though, is an Old English word, langian – which literally means to lengthen.

What I adore about this is the idea that what we long for makes us longer, bigger, deeper. That if we fail to notice our longing, we keep ourselves smaller.

Today, I invite you to observe your own longing. There’s no need to do anything with it right now. No need to wrestle it or squash it down, or even to take action on it. Not today.

Today, simply observe.

Today, sit with your journal (please tell me you have a journal! If you don’t, use whatever notepad you can find) and reflect on some simple questions.

Write the questions down. Contemplate them. Allow yourself to imagine that there are no limits, no obstacles.

 

Take some time to answer these questions, to tell the truth, to be brave. No-one is watching.

  • What do I long for in my creative life?
  • What might I allow myself to want as a writer?
  • What is the hunger, the longing, I have for my creative practice?
  • What do I long for my writing to do?
  • If there were no limits of any kind, what would I want?

Keep writing until you hit something which feels like the truth. Sit with that longing. Observe it. Contemplate it. Revel in knowledge that opening the door to it will lengthen you and strengthen you.

Desire drives narrative, and it drives creation.

Your prompt for today:

Write a time someone asked for something