Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Forcing myself...

Here I am, laptop open, house quiet ready to write.

Why the hell can't I get the stories in my head down to my fingers to the keyboard?

I need a mental dictafone...dictaphone...thing that writes down my thoughts.  That would make it easier to pull out the mental movies that play in my head.  All the stories and plots and subplots and twists that roil around in there when I drive for work.

When I sit down to write, I take a deep, cleansing breath and it all goes away.

Every

Last

Bit.

Maybe I'm not the writer I think i am.  Maybe I'm not the writer i want to be...

I make excuses.  I tell myself "no more excuses".  I write a paragraph and rewrite it several times until I have exhausted my time and the paragraph looks nothing like what I first had and I realize that my first idea was probably the way to go.

Then, I realize I'm rambling.

Screw it.  Maybe there's something on TV.

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