The Paragraph
Now you tell me, stilling the voice in my head, the one that repeats again and again, this may be a good place to end a paragraph, but the voice seems unsure and so I continue writing. Now you tell me, that the voice that lets me postpone the decision until the story is told is doing me no favor. Now you tell me, that the voice that tells me there are other stories to write, and that it will be easier next time, is wrong. Now you tell me, that the voice that convinces me that the page, the page with only a single paragraph is old business, and with a new story begun the one with the single paragraph must wait, is mistaken. Now, you tell me it is as simple as hitting the enter key twice, and it hardly matters where. You explain, that if nothing else it will make what I write easier to read, and no one will notice if I occasionally make a cringe-worthy choice. I take your words seriously, really I do. Never mind that I’ve recounted your advice in a single paragraph. Never mind that I’ve reached the end and still haven’t hit the enter key twice. The old voice is gone, but where is the one that says, “now, do it now?”