Monday, August 13, 2012

Picking Up Again

In my ideal world, one in which I'm a true writer in action (not just in my imagination), I get most of my ideas on the train. Then I take an hour or so during the day to type up my thoughts, ever so eloquently, into a succinct and thought-provoking blog post. The topics range in scope from this funny thing I overheard someone say on the street to the very pulp of my existence, and how I feel about that. See, in my ideal world, I don't actually need all of my writing to be good, I just need to be fine with it if it's bad. I don't type in fits and starts, hold the delete key for entire paragraphs, or sit staring at the cursor winking up at me all like, "Who gives a shit about the pulp of your existence? Who even says that?"

Well, I'm working on that. It isn't enough to merely think every day about writing, and how one day I will become a writer (Jonathan Safran Foer's very first novel got turned into a movie starring Elijah Wood - I have time!), but not today, because da-da da-da da-da. (I have to watch Lockup: Extended Stay, or some other such totally unnecessary activity.) When broken down, being a writer is really just about actually fucking writing. And having love for the written word, which I do, and that's the part that's built-in; the actual skill of writing, you can cultivate. So in a way, I'm lucky.

I promise I will never apologize here for "not writing for a while." I shall pick up, seamlessly, wherever I can.