I used to have the urge to write all the time, just to indulge those itchy fingers and get those mundane thoughts out into the ether, get them out of me. Now I spend a lot of time thinking about sitting down to write something and then thinking about what I would write and getting SO FUCKING BORED with myself. I have nothing to add to the conversation at large. I never did, probably, but…
Argh, this is driving me crazy. I can’t write. My brain feels constipated but no amount of squeezing yields … anything. There’s so much happening, trails being blazed every day, and yet. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to write. It feels like everything I could possibly say is trite and worn. And don’t even talk to me about taking pictures. It’s like I’ve never taken a single one in my life and wouldn’t even know…
When the Japan quake and tsunami hit, I started thinking about two Japanese girls I used to be pen pals with in grade school. Girls? Yikes. They’d be old ladies like I am now. I couldn’t conjure up the name of one of the girls, but the other’s name has stuck with me my whole life: Hitomi Imanaka. I remember the stationery she’d use when she wrote me: It was etched with one of those…
That’s something we know. And yet when we create we do our best to try for something new anyway, against the damned odds. I’m always slightly amused/horrified when I belch up something (that’s always how it feels when I write, really: Like a force of nature, something to be gotten out of me and once it’s out, I feel better and lighter) and then later find something in this world that already existed for some…
I’m good at starting stories, but I’m not so good with coming up with compelling conflict and I’m even worse at wrapping things up. Most stories I write get rambly and bogged down in details and go unfinished, and yet opening lines tumble through my brain on a nearly constant basis. I thought it might be fun to put some of them here in the hopes that you writerly types might see fit to use…
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