A Trickle

Can be corrosive in a gentle, diminuative expression. Pleasant to listen to, waters the earth in some estoric way. Eventually leads to bigger things. Many are drawn to just a trickle out of thirst, aethetics, desperation. To be enjoyed for it's simplicity and frugality.

Location: Mississippi/Missouri/Texas/France

old lady with a kid locked inside

Sunday, April 05, 2009

Forced Blogging

The idea of anything being forced just turns me inside out. Forcing oneself to write is a bit like forcing oneself to excercise, you can feel yourself rebelling. That amazes me because, I want to write, really and truely. Why it becomes such a battle seems to be because I have all kinds of blocks, like obstacles they put out during road work to keep you from taking an exit that only shoots out into space not really leading anywhere except to fall flat and die.

When I do constrain myself to the keyboard and "have at it", word by word, I feel some underlying current that suprisingly jumps out my fingers. It's a fantastic sensation, but it's word by word, sometimes character by character. When a genuine writing spurt comes along, it's a high that only a writer can experience. It's what you ache for and what keeps you spurred to hack out any little thing you can even faintly call writing.

I am determined to hammer, plunk, drone, and peck until something, someday, somehow manifests itself to be qualified to be published. I have no real idea what that item might be, a poem, a memoir, a short story, a novel, only writing it will tell.