The first step is to take the list out of its resting place in an old fashioned desktop tray of dark wood which sits to one side of where one would normally place what they were writing. Writing comes second. Comes after the list. Lists of any sort must come first.
As one goes over the list, checking off (with small relief) boxes of those items which are complete and fretting over incompletions and forgotten or delayed or avoided ones, one begins to think of what should be next on the desktop; what should be centered after the work of checking items on the list and becoming desperate over that which is left unchecked is complete.
One begins to make another list of writing needed for one’s ultimate completion. One then goes back and adds the monitoring of this list to the first list. One must be sure to add the second list to the inbox. And now there are two — the list of things to do before writing, and the list of things to write once you begin to write.
One’s pen has become now empty of ink. One should add getting ink, or choosing new pens, or thinking about pencils over pens (one now needs a new list of pros and cons) and what of using a typewriter versus a computer? Making a new list now: writing instruments, technology…the lists must have formal titles. One needs the skill of titling to become a writer. Are there tools, are there workshops, are there blog posts and opinions — fountain pen or ball point, Mac or PC? What of using a gerund in the title? What of the capitalization and punctuation wars?
The second step is to die with lists upon lists to be shoveled into one’s grave. One will lie upon them for eternity. One will be so comfortable at that point. One will sleep very well on the pile of intention — so soft, like feather snow, like words one never pronounced but only dreamed of inventing for others to marvel over and snuggle with.
Dark Matter 