One Step Closer
Well, once again, I haven't blogged in a very long time.
I haven't been setting aside time to write.
I recently wrote a small poem for my beloved future-wife, but I can't say I was really satisfied with it. It was sincere, I definitely wasn't lazy about it, and she appreciated it, but it still didn't seem to flow like my words have in the past.
I don't know why I get so muddy so often. I am always talking about writing and always wishing I were writing, but I so rarely write.
What is even stranger is that I have written a fair amount. I've written about 130 poems. I've written a handful of short stories. (I have of course written plenty of papers for school.) I've written a smattering of other types of things. Perhaps that is my destiny: to write erratically. I do wish, however, that I would write perhaps even obsessively. I spend a lot of my time whiling away at mindless things.
Sometimes, I suspect that, if I tried to write diligently, I would just become exhausted; I think this is more fear than anything reasonable. I more sincerely suspect that, if I wrote diligently, I would be far more contented with my days.
I cannot say I am not contented with my days overall: God has been absurdly gracious to me. Nevertheless, I believe I am a creature who is meant to write.
Just this past semester, when I finally got around to writing a research paper, I felt a bit giddy.
I think I was giddy just to be writing and thinking and searching; I wasn't allowed to do that in most of my classes – not the thinking part anyway, but don't get me started.
I just want to write. I have these fancy ideas ricocheting around my mind, and they should be written. I have been developing the various elementals for my story about Tetraearth, and I need to write.
I don't know why I can't sit down and hack through my thoughts. I've written a reputable amount, but, for some reason, I can't wade through my thoughts and wrestle a paragraph into existence.
I have, at least, compiled a lot of ideas for my Tetraearth concepts, but I really would prefer to have begun chapters; at this rate, it'll never be written, and that makes me sad.
To get out of whining about writing, I shall give a brief overview of the four races:
Earth Elementals:
Earth elementals are very in-the-moment creatures...
One possibility that just struck me: I get the impression that, if I started writing, I'd have to write a very long time, and it seems a daunting venture.
Thus, once again, I'll set aside diving into my crazy world that I have not yet created.
Maybe I've come one step closer.
An earth elemental wouldn't care.
A water elemental wouldn't worry.
A wind elemental would get it done.
A fire elemental would have written it a long time ago.
I haven't been setting aside time to write.
I recently wrote a small poem for my beloved future-wife, but I can't say I was really satisfied with it. It was sincere, I definitely wasn't lazy about it, and she appreciated it, but it still didn't seem to flow like my words have in the past.
I don't know why I get so muddy so often. I am always talking about writing and always wishing I were writing, but I so rarely write.
What is even stranger is that I have written a fair amount. I've written about 130 poems. I've written a handful of short stories. (I have of course written plenty of papers for school.) I've written a smattering of other types of things. Perhaps that is my destiny: to write erratically. I do wish, however, that I would write perhaps even obsessively. I spend a lot of my time whiling away at mindless things.
Sometimes, I suspect that, if I tried to write diligently, I would just become exhausted; I think this is more fear than anything reasonable. I more sincerely suspect that, if I wrote diligently, I would be far more contented with my days.
I cannot say I am not contented with my days overall: God has been absurdly gracious to me. Nevertheless, I believe I am a creature who is meant to write.
Just this past semester, when I finally got around to writing a research paper, I felt a bit giddy.
I think I was giddy just to be writing and thinking and searching; I wasn't allowed to do that in most of my classes – not the thinking part anyway, but don't get me started.
I just want to write. I have these fancy ideas ricocheting around my mind, and they should be written. I have been developing the various elementals for my story about Tetraearth, and I need to write.
I don't know why I can't sit down and hack through my thoughts. I've written a reputable amount, but, for some reason, I can't wade through my thoughts and wrestle a paragraph into existence.
I have, at least, compiled a lot of ideas for my Tetraearth concepts, but I really would prefer to have begun chapters; at this rate, it'll never be written, and that makes me sad.
To get out of whining about writing, I shall give a brief overview of the four races:
Earth Elementals:
Earth elementals are very in-the-moment creatures...
One possibility that just struck me: I get the impression that, if I started writing, I'd have to write a very long time, and it seems a daunting venture.
Thus, once again, I'll set aside diving into my crazy world that I have not yet created.
Maybe I've come one step closer.
An earth elemental wouldn't care.
A water elemental wouldn't worry.
A wind elemental would get it done.
A fire elemental would have written it a long time ago.
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