Sometimes I think all day about something I want to write when I get home. It might be something funny that I saw/heard/read/took in by using one of my senses. It doesn't have to be funny...it could elicit any emotion, really. Or it might be something that I just kinda thought up during the day and wanted to elaborate on.
What invariably happens is that I think about it during the day, lose some steam on what I wanted to really get into, talk for about 20 minutes with someone about that thing, and don't bother writing it.
So where does that leave me?
It leaves me with a good conversation and nothing to write about.
It's a blessing and a curse. Curse because I like writing and generally want to write about these things I think up. And blessing because I'm not so painfully alone that I have no one to talk to and am forced to write it out instead. (Not that I'm suggesting that all writers are the lonely/reclusive type...but have you seen most of these jokers?)
Here's where it gets abstract.
I find myself occasionally wanting to write and I end up feeling like these words are getting thrown at me from every direction...as if I'm a globe surrounding a scared porcupine.
Write. Think. Come on, write. Go. Don't waste time, just go. Stop thinking. Write. Create. Imagine. Believe in something. Hate. Love. Feel. Inspire. Make something. Have no fear. Write. Express. Produce. Go. Do something. Don't back out. Search. Just start. Quit thinking and just fucking start writing. It'll come, just start. You'll never write something good if you don't write anything.
I had nothing planned for this blog post. All I knew 15 minutes ago was that I wanted to touch on that anxiety-feeling of wanting to write something and having already used up that idea on a conversation - which I do a lot.
That little list was genuine. That's exactly what I felt as I was sitting there, blank.
But I think that last line was an epiphany.
Writing, you are a cruel mistress who doesn't put out nearly enough.
(don't get me wrong, I love nothing more than a good conversation. It's one of my biggest weaknesses...along with boobs, cookies, and cookies decorated like boobs, but I need to start expounding on my thoughts in my own head before throwing them at other people and letting the strong emotions fade as opinions are shared.)
What invariably happens is that I think about it during the day, lose some steam on what I wanted to really get into, talk for about 20 minutes with someone about that thing, and don't bother writing it.
So where does that leave me?
It leaves me with a good conversation and nothing to write about.
It's a blessing and a curse. Curse because I like writing and generally want to write about these things I think up. And blessing because I'm not so painfully alone that I have no one to talk to and am forced to write it out instead. (Not that I'm suggesting that all writers are the lonely/reclusive type...but have you seen most of these jokers?)
Here's where it gets abstract.
I find myself occasionally wanting to write and I end up feeling like these words are getting thrown at me from every direction...as if I'm a globe surrounding a scared porcupine.
Write. Think. Come on, write. Go. Don't waste time, just go. Stop thinking. Write. Create. Imagine. Believe in something. Hate. Love. Feel. Inspire. Make something. Have no fear. Write. Express. Produce. Go. Do something. Don't back out. Search. Just start. Quit thinking and just fucking start writing. It'll come, just start. You'll never write something good if you don't write anything.
I had nothing planned for this blog post. All I knew 15 minutes ago was that I wanted to touch on that anxiety-feeling of wanting to write something and having already used up that idea on a conversation - which I do a lot.
That little list was genuine. That's exactly what I felt as I was sitting there, blank.
But I think that last line was an epiphany.
Writing, you are a cruel mistress who doesn't put out nearly enough.
(don't get me wrong, I love nothing more than a good conversation. It's one of my biggest weaknesses...along with boobs, cookies, and cookies decorated like boobs, but I need to start expounding on my thoughts in my own head before throwing them at other people and letting the strong emotions fade as opinions are shared.)
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