I write nonsense
Have you ever felt like there is something waiting there, just out of reach? A thread that's unwinding faster than you can grab on to the end? Like there is something just out of sight and if you turn your head at just the right time, you might finally see it?
That's writing for me these days.
Reviving ye old blog is an attempt to revive ye old writer, the one who lives somewhere deep down inside.
The writer in me ticks like a clock. Most of the time I don't notice the sound. It just IS.
Tick tock.
But, every now and then, the sound gets loud. Almost deafening, almost drowning out everything else until I have to pay attention to the time.
TICK TOCK.
It's at that point that I get out the pencils or keyboards or notebooks and begin. I read old stuff and marvel at the problems that riddle my lines. I jot down notes or delete stuff that never came to fruition. I try writing. First blips, then sentences, then paragraphs, or outlines, or pages.
But, I'm finding this to be quite the challenge this time. The ends are all unraveled. My attention has been focused so far outside myself for so long that I can't pull it all together.
So, for now I write nonsense. Like this.
And I listen to that tick-tock-tick-tock rhythm, wondering what it will say.
And when.
That's writing for me these days.
Reviving ye old blog is an attempt to revive ye old writer, the one who lives somewhere deep down inside.
The writer in me ticks like a clock. Most of the time I don't notice the sound. It just IS.
Tick tock.
But, every now and then, the sound gets loud. Almost deafening, almost drowning out everything else until I have to pay attention to the time.
TICK TOCK.
It's at that point that I get out the pencils or keyboards or notebooks and begin. I read old stuff and marvel at the problems that riddle my lines. I jot down notes or delete stuff that never came to fruition. I try writing. First blips, then sentences, then paragraphs, or outlines, or pages.
But, I'm finding this to be quite the challenge this time. The ends are all unraveled. My attention has been focused so far outside myself for so long that I can't pull it all together.
So, for now I write nonsense. Like this.
And I listen to that tick-tock-tick-tock rhythm, wondering what it will say.
And when.
Comments