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.
Wrote the following comment on April 9th, 2009 at 3:34 am #
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.)
Wrote the following comment on April 9th, 2009 at 6:03 pm #
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.
Amen.
Wrote the following comment on April 10th, 2009 at 8:26 am #
Haha. I feel the same way.
Wrote the following comment on April 10th, 2009 at 3:34 pm #
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.