THE WAR OF ART by STEVEN PRESSFIELD WHAT （战争艺术的STEVEN PRESSFIELD什么）.pdf

THE WAR OF ART by STEVEN PRESSFIELD WHAT I DO I get up, take a shower, have breakfast. I read the paper, brush my teeth. If I have phone calls to make, I make them. Ive got my coffee now. I put on my lucky work boots and stitch up the lucky laces that my niece Meredith gave me. I head back to my office, crank up the computer. My lucky hooded sweatshirt is draped over the chair, with the lucky charm I got from a gypsy in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer for only eight bucks in francs, and my lucky nametag that came from a dream I once had. I put it on. On my thesaurus is my lucky cannon that my friend Bob Versandi gave me from Morro Castle, Cuba. I point it toward my chair, so it can fire inspiration into me. I say my prayer, which is the Invocation of the Muse from Homers Odyssey, translation by T. E. Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia, which my dear mate Paul Rink gave me and which sits near my shelf with the cuff links that belonged to my father and my lucky acorn from the battlefield at Thermopylae. Its about ten-thirty now. I sit down and plunge in. When I start making typos, I know Im getting tired. Thats four hours or so. Ive hit the point of diminishing returns. I wrap for the day. Copy whatever Ive done to disk and stash the disk in the glove compartment of my truck in case theres a fire and I have to run for it. I power down. Its three, three-thirty. The office is closed. How many pages have I produced? I dont care. Are they any good? I dont even think about it. All that matters is Ive put in my time and hit it with all Ive got. All that counts is that, for this day, for this session, I have overcome Resistance. WHAT I KNOW Theres a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers dont, and the secret is this: Its not the writing part thats hard. Whats hard is sitting down to write. What keeps us from sitting down is