New prompt: Blueprint
Just when we think there is nothing to say ...
I love where Michelle Hynes started this piece. Sometimes when we show up to the page, we got nothin’, so that is where we start. These rare moments when we can surrender to our own inability to conjure words are often when the words really start flowing—usually from somewhere deeper. This gem of a piece is proof. Enjoy.
Blueprint
by Michelle Hynes
My mind and my pen cannot connect with this prompt, despite the resonance of the poem. This is one of those times I'm just going to have to write junk, in the hopes that along the way will be some gem of insight.
What I keep thinking of is my friend's newly-finished tiny house, raised up from an idea. It moved through the thicket of neighbors' objections and the city permitting office and supply-chain snafus. And now, it's a living sturdy structure oriented around a big old beautiful tree. When you lie on the bed in the loft, all you see is the lacy green of a cedar. (I think it's a cedar -- Hao* would know.)
The blueprint in my friend's mind became an oasis of white and green and grey. What impression will this structure make on the people inside and around it? How does the sketch of an idea in two dimensions come to life -- not just the physical 3D of it but the energy it creates, radiates, absorbs?
Space makes an impression inside me, one I don't have words for. It spurs me to keep throwing things away, releasing them into the universe, so that I can see more of the trees and the path that opens up between them.
I, too, need to clean my house in order to leave it behind.
*Another member of the group
Think you got nothin’?
Show up at the page anyway and see what happens. Start with the word “blueprint” and see what comes through. Or just start where Michelle did: some version of “I have no idea what to say right now” and then let go.
And as always if you are moved to share your own 8-minute essay in the comments, the invitation is always open. We’d love to see what came through you.
You can also come play with us on Zoom at
the next Mini-Retreat on July 19
Soul Writing Summer Camp, a four-week series starting on July 24.