Mark Twain once said, “Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.” Of course, that statement presupposes that you have words on paper to begin with. Me? I got nothin’! Zip! Zilch! Zero! Nada! NOTHING!!!!!
When my creative writing students tell me they don’t know what to write about I tell them to buck up and just write. I even give them the first line or so…”I got nothin’! I can’t believe my mean English teacher is making me write! Why did I even sign up for this class?!” (BTW, did you know that an exclamation point and a question mark used together as in the previous sentence is called an interrobang?)
Now here I am, with the big ol’ goose egg of nothin’ and I find myself wondering
– why I ever signed up for this blog.
– how I’m going to make my deadline (actually, I missed my deadline since I’m supposed to get this turned in much earlier than the night before it posts).
– how I let justachik1 talk me in to this.
And then I remember that I love to write – even though it isn’t always easy. In fact, it is hard work. Very hard work. Anne Tyler said, “If I waited till I felt like writing, I’d never write at all.” Margaret Atwood said, “If I waited for perfection, I’d never write a word.” So I said, “Well dang, I’d better start writing.”
At this late date I can no longer wait until I feel like writing. And I have given up expecting perfection. Instead, I am sitting at my computer tapping at the keys and hoping that whatever I produce will resonate with at least one reader.
I search for inspiration
but he’s a wily muse who has gone off to points unknown
he’s abandoned me
left me to deal
with a lack of ideas
a looming deadline
a sense of defeat
a desire to throw up my hands and shout
And as I struggle for the next
line of text, meter of poetry,
i so want to surrender to the little voice
the one that whispers
the one that screams
“Give it up!”t
But I can’t quit
channeling my inner Hemingway
I sit at my [computer] and bleed –
thoughts, dreams, desires
fears, worries, struggles
into the next line,
the next verse,
I form a bit of poetry
out of nothin’ –
(yes, I know it doesn’t rhyme;
it doesn’t have to)
and while I have not reached
I have come to a conclusion.