|
2003-01-16 || 1:30 p.m. || told from atop the very tip of the ice berg. || i wish i could write something good here to cover all the shite i've been adding lately. and i don't know what it is, except maybe my latest stitches and modifications in How I Approach Writing is making me run away very fast from pen and paper and keyboard and monitor. in an effort to Hunker Down and Stop Stalling i am now under a strict regimen of waking up an hour early to work on my novel and. it is so very painful. and not so productive. not only on the having to sacrifice wondrous sweet sweet sleep front, but also on the oh my god you need to quit this 'oh my precious' shit and just cut through all these rambling unedited pages and get cooking effort. oh. dear. and i am realizing, repeatedly, usually while locking myself out of the house to sit on the porch and reapply tar and black to the vulnerable linings of my lungs, that i am so very neurotic. and a very inefficient machine. if writing is so hard, if writing with some kind of goal in mind is so amazingly hard, why why why. why. because i decided years ago that this is what i want to do when i Grow Up? that i feel somewhat confident in my ability and passion for it and feel i shouldn't waste it? so i am absolutely terrified and have said too many times i will gladly trade it in for my dream job as toll booth collector. it's just too dear. and i am finding i am spectacularly afraid of failure. or of coming to the realization i am mediocre at best. god god god god god. * (sidenote on the new writing regimen: i have to keep with it if only to honor the best first day kick-off/best best friendly gesture ever... waking up at 5:45 to turn on the computer and try to not make any noise, all the while the visiting best friend slipping out into the morning dark to buy bagels and exotic fixings and coffee perfectly doctored. emerging with bagel a-toasted and offers of high-fives and the secretest way-too-early-morning cigarette. so. nice. so. nice. thank you thank you. we can forget about the battle royale and the part when you sprinkled fish food on my face. apologies to your nards for the gruesome head-butting.) guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |