The Writer Who Waited for Trains

There once was a writer named Wally McSwain
Who waited for words like a passenger train.
He stood at the airport with pen in his hand—
But no train ever came to that runway of land.

He grumbled. “Inspiration! Where could you be?
I’m ready to write. Won’t you hurry to me?”
But the clouds only drifted. The jets only roared.
And poor Wally’s notebook stayed perfectly bored.

Then Patty Pen-Pusher came strolling along,
With ink on her fingers and humming a song.
“You’re waiting for trains at an airport, my friend.
That’s not how good writing adventures begin.”

“You start with a scribble, a wobble, a line—
A thought that is crooked, a phrase not yet fine.
You write and you write till the engine finds track,
And soon inspiration comes chugging right back.

“For writing,” she said, “is a curious wheel.
At first it moves slowly with a very bad squeal.
But just keep pushing and give it a big spin,
And whoosh! Marvelous ideas will rush in.

“So write when you feel bright or when you’re gray.
Write when you see the sun rise. Go later in the day.
Don’t wait for a mood like a change in the weather.
Good writers keep going until things work together.

“A farmer,” she said, “doesn’t stare at the sky,
Waiting to plant crops when inspiration walks by.
He plants and he plows and he tends every row—
And soon there are harvests beginning to show.”

So Wally stopped waiting for trains from the air.
He scribbled a sentence—then more than a pair.
And wouldn’t you know, as his pen kept running,
His mind found stories both splendid and stunning.

And now if you ask him how writing should begin,
He has the widest smile with a mischievous grin.
“Don’t wait for inspiration to walk into your den.
Just start writing something… and write it again.”