Barbara Kingslover

The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. The most you can do is live inside that hope, running down its hallways, touching the walls on both sides.
— Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams


I find it takes discipline to stop writing and go do other things, such as cleaning the house.

I tend to wake up extremely early with words flooding into my brain. If I don’t get up, they’ll continue to accumulate in puddles, so it’s a relief to get to the keyboard and dump them out.

I’ll take a break to have breakfast with my daughter and walk her to the school bus.

In the afternoon I’ll break again to meet with my assistant, Judy, to review the day’s mail pile and decide how to respond to requests.

But if I’ve really gone into novel-never-land, the time disappears. I sometimes look at the clock and am stunned to see that six or eight hours have passed while I sat motionless in my chair.

I’ve learned the hard way, from my body, that when I get in this zone it’s wise to set an alarm to go off every hour or so, to remind me to get up, unclench, do some yoga.

And I always try to follow my day at the desk with some form of physical exercise.

Summer evenings offer hours of daylight for weeding and planting, checking the lambs, whatever needs to be done.

I enjoy the physical engagement of farm work, because it balances the work I do inside my head.

I also appreciate my family for keeping me anchored in the real world.

- Barbara Kingsolver

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