You know that a writer is uncertain what to write about when he begins writing about writing. Yet so many poets have composed poems about poetry, or writers written words about words, and stories have been told about the nature of a story. I used to write so abundantly with passion and beauty. I would stitch words together with poetic precision. My words have been short as of late. And now I find myself writing about writing.
The words I am writing this moment are likely the response to my completion of a novel. I read it in only three days, which is an amazing feat for me. I read slowly. The consumption of a mere one hundred pages could take me a month or more. And after picking at those few pages for that long, like a boy poking at the beans on his plate, simply spreading them from one corner to another, I would rarely finish my meal. I would set down an unfinished book and never pick it up again. But I did finish reading a book this morning. And it is that which, I think, has inspired my want for writing this morning.
Most of the writing I used to do stemmed from conversations, a delight which I have not come across much this semester. Words, whether written or spoken, always inspire more words. Words are like a cancer that bring life. And I have not truly engaged many words this semester. I used to have long conversations about anything and everything nearly every night. Those are the times when I have been most inspired. The conversations I have been a part of this semester have been fleeting and typically involve great many “Yeahs” and “That’s awesomes.” They have not been of much substance. The conversations which I have felt held great potential have usually been cut short by studious responsibility or uncertain propriety. I suppose it’s safer to hold conversations with books and my journal.
Sometimes a person must first encounter words in order to have something to say, but other times a person will discover something to say by simply speaking. I have encouraged many people to freewrite and journal. Aside from the times when I have been in constant conversation, the times when I have had the most words spilling from me are times that I spent a great deal of time freewriting. Here’s what I’d like to do. I’d like to commit to writing something of substance on here at least once a week. Perhaps someday I may stumble onto something brilliant.
I just started reading “On Writing” by Stephen King. It is a great writing by a writer about writing. He even talks a little about writing about writing about writing.
I like your commitment. I want to do the same. How can we keep each other accountable?
We can check each other’s blogs and nag each other if nothing new is there. And then give each other ideas about what we should write. What kind of stuff would you like to see on here from me? And vice versa.
The more I read your writing, the more I start to think we might be the same person. I love it.
Also, I felt this same way last semester, and look where God brought us! I’d say we’ve both had our fair share of good words and conversations. So good!!