Of all the deepening places, the ocean speaks to me the most. An ocean with no land visible on the horizon, where the water surges to my feet and recedes gently, where I can see the sun rise and set on a sunny warm day, splashing a swath of colors across the blue sky and vapory clouds at gloaming. 
The sight of the ocean brings me peace as no other. I can feel the breath whooshing out of me from the depths of my being at the first glimpse. Everything inside me slows down, even the very blood flows slower. I am not thinking of anything, nor feel compelled to do so. I simply exist, effortlessly drinking in every detail.What makes the ocean such a deepening place for me? It's the waves. The sight of them; the sound of them. The continuous waxing and waning without a lull. That ceaseless effort that is rewarded by the high tides capturing victory.
Writing a book is like that, whether it's the first manuscript or the twentieth book. The effort, the efort, and then comes the high tide or the accomplishment of an even higher tide, and the writer has reached farther than they've ever done before. Genius is as genius does. It's the aspiration and the hard work with intention that makes the difference between flourishing and floundering, thriving and languishing, succeeding and stagnating.
Call Stories of first sales to publishing houses are filled with the number of years writers wrote before becoming published authors. Imagine, how poorer our reading world would be if their stories had remained in boxes under their beds or in their memories. These writers kept faith in their talents and their desire to write, and then they wrote. They idenified places, events, everyday objects that allowed them to focus on who they were and what they wanted to be, and they wrote. They published ten books, and they wrote. Effort without pause. Page after page. Story after story. Book after book.
Over to you, my friends. What are your deepening places? Would going over there to do your writing help with your motivation and your creative output?
I have nothing but excuses why I can't get a simple blog up. First there was health. Then there was travel. Then there was prolonged health. Then there were visitors. Today, there was The Accident. We're safe and well; car's in the shop; no one's hurt; our pocket-book got lighter; car insurance got heftier; husband's rather worried, but he was brilliant at managing everything and everybody today. Blog post has been delayed yet again. (Now to figure how to get myself to the chapter meeting Tuesday evening.) And keeping in line with how my life's been the past few weeks, I didn't final at the Royal Ascot, my very first contest. More to go.