Notes from a Writer #1

Sunday, January 21, 2018

DEAR YOU,

I've found myself strumming my fingers against the keys of my laptop a lot recently. Two taps over the J key, four over the O. I'll blink a few times, highlight a bit of random text on the screen before exhaling and shaking my head. Focus. I write a few words, click a few things before slowly slipping back to the tapping. This repeats for hours. 

I'm more than hard on myself when I cannot write at the level I expect myself to sustain. I'm good at what I do, and when phases of inspiration overlap with periods of productivity my writing flows freely. But these days, these weeks, it's been akin to pulling teeth. Or more so, like watering a dead plant - just a spew of words flowing into an article that has no hope of being revived. 

And when these times come I rip myself apart. It is, I tell myself, the markings of a great writer to write when all fails; to stumble through the block with a heavy dose of perseverance and a solid confidence in one's own abilities. So I conclude that to wither away, to write with hesitation and insecurity, to not write at all are the marks of a poor writer. And these past few weeks I have been, quite honestly, a poor writer.

I'm not sure whether its inspiration or productivity that escapes me, really it could be both. Either way I find myself doing a whole bunch of nothing, writing a whole bunch of nothing, and, more than anything, feeling a whole bunch of nothing. And drinking far too much coffee - which does nothing but make my head spin and increase my paranoia. Though, paranoia is a feeling - so I guess that's something. Maybe I should write about hesitation? Or a story about a woman doing a whole bunch of nothing? A la, a Sylvia Plath version of Holden Caulfield.

Hmmm. That might actually be something ...
Stay tuned.






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