When I Don’t Have to Write, Writing is Alright

I don’t like writing when I have to write, but when I don’t have to write writing is alright. Actually, it’s more than alright, it’s outstanding! Writing is a living tension: it is a source of pleasure, even as it is a source of pain. The pain is the looking at a blank page, which is a symbol of the myriad of possibilities that exist in my mind regarding any topic that I might address, as well as the ways I might address it. This can be overwhelming, and it is this sense of being overwhelmed that often keeps me from writing. A counterpoint to this, perhaps even a counter-pressure, is my overwhelming desire to express myself, particularly through words. I have come to see that in the process of writing, I am enabled to see what I likely would not have seen. It’s like Joan Didion says, “I write entirely to find out what I am thinking, what I am looking at, what I see, and what it means.” This is my experience, and thus when I don’t write I am always wondering what I am missing. So this is my tension, I live between the overwhelming possibilities of a blank page, and the overwhelming idea that if I don’t write I might miss something crucial.

4 Responses to “When I Don’t Have to Write, Writing is Alright”

  1. Roger Green  

    Which is why I try never to write the day before or worse, the day of my posts. Makes my hair turn gray. No, wait, that was just aging. still, I like to write for the future. My Easter post is done! (My Good Friday post, alas, is not.)

  2. K.L.B.  

    When I write, I often ex post facto…

    Is that res ipsa loquitur?

    Or is it ipso facto?

    Res publica…

    Res gestae…

    Res judicata…

    Case closed.


  3. Jackie Rios  

    Haha. I feel the same way.

  4. Simon Jones  

    I find that if I don’t write then I get out of the habit. It’s kinda similar to going to the gym, though I actually don’t enjoy the gym really, but you know what I mean. I hate it when I want to write, but the only stuff that I am capable of putting on that blank page is bullshit. Bla bla bollocks that is of no use to anyone.

    I’ve been out of the habit for a while now. Drama, work, and other stuff has gotten in the way. I could have written about it all, but there has been so much my writing died away like an overwatered plant.