When the Day Comes…

Someone once asked Somerset Maugham if he wrote on a schedule or only when struck by inspiration. “I write only when inspiration strikes,” he replied. “Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine sharp.”
That’s a pro.

Stephen Pressfield
from The War on Art

Two major hurdles to sitting down and writing: time and finding inspiration!  The writers of TLS can’t help with time – you have to create your own habits for the work of writing, but we can offer monthly prompts to wake up that muse sitting at the edge of your computer screen.  We always begin our writing sessions with a prompt and five minutes of journal writing.  This month’s prompt comes from a student of mine who stepped up to the opportunity to lead and I hope the day comes when she finds her inner leadership and goes on to great teaching!

We invite you to use the comment section to post your own journal response to our monthly prompts.

Here’s to daily writing…

The Writers at The Last Sunday Writers Blog

When the Day comes…

Venus is in her ascendency
winging her way through the night sky
a lantern for the homeward bound
at dusk or dawn in a half-lit sky,
enticing the big one, Jupiter, to play
tag among the twinkling stars,
to follow on the path she treads,
to make a twin lantern to her glow
to smile in tandem on the earth.

By Laura Hoopes

I in the last twelve years at least have been working out everyday in some way at the gym or taking long walks to the beach and back home. But, as I look around me at the gym and see the hordes of beautiful young bodies and way folks are able to move compared to the older folks who walk all bent over or with canes, I wonder when the day will come when I can no longer keep up my pace. Right now I don’t have any aches and pains, my hips and ankles and knees are still supporting my purpose, but I can already tell I’m moving slower than I used to. My problem is that I’m always challenging myself and trying to work through any resistance I feel in my body. But how much longer can I still do it. My husband always says it’s hell to grow old, and I always tell him it’s a matter of attitude. So I press on mainly because I know the benefits are tremendous. I don’t want to wither away like some of the older folks I’ve seen. I don’t want to sit on my couch and eat bon-bons and watch TV. That will only take me to the hell of old age way too soon. So until that day comes along, I’ll be doing my workout thing every day, day after day. And that’s a good thing.

by Madeline Sharples


When the day comes… that no one tells me what I ought to be doing, or asks, “Why don’t you…” or “Why didn’t you…” or “You really should…” I’m not sure that I will know what to do with myself.
At my age, as social standing is no longer at stake, I hear things coming out of me like “I don’t want to…” or “That’s not important or of
any interest to me…” as I look over my shoulder to see who said that.  Is it beginning Alzheimers or Maxine?  I feel me patting myself on the back.  Hey, I’ve never done that before.  I like these new shoes I’m wearing.  They don’t have to be the kind everyone else wants anymore.

By Rity Keeley Brown

When The day comes I finally believe in myself I hope I won’t be dead.
I want to develop thought patterns that say; NOW.  Always now. Heaven is now.  Not tomorrow or next week when it will be more comfortable.
I want to sit in God’s lap as the grown up schooled by “little Mary Rose,” with the golden curls.
I want my hopes for others to be sacred,  the “I believe in miracles kind of hope, ” the “We can go far on God’s love ,” kind of hope.
I’ve started not getting out of bed until I’ve thank God for the idea that joy is learnable.   I can do it, I can, learning joy is feel-able.
Even if Frances the feral cat walks on my head I stay there in bed till I’ve checked where in my body I feel joy
and it doesn’t have to be in my vagina, it can be in my heart or my toes.
And I’ve decided I don’t believe in original sin.  I believe we were born into bliss and all we need to do is breath bliss out and in.
The day will come when dawn becomes  a joy exchange between me and the world
so the joy I learned joy will become a light for others to see their day come.

By Mary Rose Betten

I hear that line, when the day comes, and I wonder what day?  It sounds religious – when the day comes all men will be free, family feuds won’t involve the imprisoning of children or the bargaining over virgins, drugs won’t take our good and bad men, the dispute over gay marriage will be nothing but a footnote and abortion questions will permanently be locked in discussion between pregnant mother and whoever she sees fit –

Or is it more global; shining lights, freedom and peace for all – the rapture?

I keep seeing this day some eighteen months from now when my son leaves for college – when my son leaves.  Will we expand into the open spaces his absence creates?  Or will we tip toe over his footsteps not wanting to disturb his imprint?  And it comes with its own religiousity, no more praying to the late night gods of safety and speed limits and good judgment.  What I don’t know, I can’t wait up for…I am an imbecile, I believe in the joy of the innocent – when the day comes where love is wagered on a phone call and the by yearly bill from the registrar’s office.

By Erica Jamieson

When the day comes that I am all alone; no cat, no dog, no kids, no man–

No house, no job, no obligations, no ambitions—

That is the day when my life ends.

 For life is: cats and dogs who wag and purr

And life is: kids who love fully and laugh loudly—

And life is relationships—the tug of war

And life is built inside houses

And jobs are what fill our days

And obligations are as basic as our inhalations and our exhalations—

For without them

We die.

By Lisa Solis DeLong


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