Because I am trying not to write this damn short story. Ugh. Did I say I liked writing? Did I say I was a writer? This is supposed to be fun? This is what I chose, for myself? Like, the destiny I can't avoid? Who am I kidding? Why don't I have anything to say? Why are all of my sentences so bad? Why are all the things that occur to me such leaden, bad, nonstarter ideas? Hasn't everything good already been written, by people much smarter and more tuned into the world? I could be sitting in an office with a view of the ocean, getting paid lots of money to sort out complicated legal problems, and talking by speakerphone with a sensible and capable secretary who would know where to find that letter I think I might need to reread, and even if I didn't know what I was doing I would know how to figure out what I was doing. This? I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to figure out what I'm doing. Bleh. I know I need to write and at some impossible time I'll figure out what's happening and I'll disappear into it. I remember, vaguely, that that happens. I know something will shut off and take over. But what if it doesn't, and there are just these dumb sentences and bad ideas and nothing else? Then what??
UPDATE: I think I have made progress. I know what's going to happen, I think, and to whom. And I know the story is going to leave the reader with a vague, sad, but strangely beautiful ache and longing that you can't exactly articulate, except by describing the exact image of the end of the story. Glad I decided on that. The rest should be easy.
Ha! I know exactly how you feel! I'm under deadline to produce an article for a magazine --my first freelance assignement -- and I've been having those same thoughts all morning!
Posted by: Amy | February 08, 2006 at 01:42 PM
p.s. OCD -- I realize I misspelled "assignment" :)
Posted by: Amy | February 08, 2006 at 01:44 PM
It's like stargazing. If you look at it straight on, it vanishes. But if you keep steering the side of your vision toward the point you know is there, it will be there, though your eyes may get a little watery from the staring.
Posted by: hannah | February 08, 2006 at 05:43 PM
I know how you feel. I just got a jerk of a co-worker make me feel really bad about myself -- but that's not too unusual in a big law firm. I could write a poem about it, but that would just glorify him. Ever have one of those smart-ass joke sessions that snowballs and before you know it, you've said something you kind of regret, because you were upset about what the other person said, but didn't want to admit it?
Anyway, just venting.
Posted by: | February 08, 2006 at 08:22 PM
The Update makes it sound like you're writing for the New Yorker.
Posted by: PG | February 09, 2006 at 03:31 AM
I love that you're writing to put off writing. I wish I would remember to do that. I usually play my guitar, or clean the house, or walk the dog. There's so many options, but writing to avoid writing is sheer genius!
Posted by: James | February 09, 2006 at 06:35 PM
I'm new here, just wanted to say hello and introduce myself.
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