I've noticed that my writing isn't coming as easily to me as it used to. I don't know when things started getting harder for me, but the words no longer flow steadily and easily and beautifully. No, when I read back over something I have written, the sentences seem choppy and disconnected. They jump from place to place too quickly.
Something's wrong. I have to push myself to write in my journal, to blog, to do homework, to swim, to wake up, to go to school, to sit with my friends at lunch and not just curl up into a little ball in the study lounge and go to sleep. I feel a sinister sort of lazy. Somehow or another I am aware of the fact that this feeling that I'm feeling right now is truly and deeply negative. But I don't know when it started, where it's coming from, or how to rid myself of it.
Ms. Clavel turned on her light and said, "something is not right."
Writing is a discipline.
ReplyDeleteWriting is a sanctuary.
Writing is an outlet.
Writing is a pain in the ass.
My advice - just write something. Anything. Every single day.
Oh - and that "sinister lazy" - it is called winter.
Don't give in to that shit.
Glitter can give way to super cute fury boots.
We'll get through the winter together. With glitter and facon and cocktail weenies.
ReplyDeleteAnd then we can write about it.
I know that feeling. I just shook off my own autumn apathy. I have winning winters and scintillating springs. Summers are so-so.
ReplyDelete