Thursday, February 16, 2006

Writer's blues

Sitting in front of the computer, staring at the keys, waiting for the words to come. Thoughts, phrases, descriptions, seem to steal upon me at odd moments, darting across my brain like fish in a stream. When I sit down and try to focus, try to make the words come, there is nothing but silence. Of all the things I’ve tried to do in life, writing comes the least easily, takes the most effort, and sometimes offers the least reward. It seems such an odd way to spend one’s life, waiting for something as thin and flimsy as a dream.

It has occurred to me lately that my struggles with writing may not be due to a lack of talent or deep-seated fear. Rather, my problem may lie in the fact that I simply have nothing to say. I have lived for twenty-seven years and in that time, I have experienced many life-changing events. Births, deaths, the beautiful beginnings of love and the occasional ugly endings. The only problem is, most of these things happened to other people; I only write about them. This is my secret: In order to have an interesting life, I have to make it up.


Blogger J Malcolm said...

As for the question of truth verus fiction, fiction knocked truth out in the first minute making it the new champion. For the best fiction is true without being factual, and the universal truths are best displayed in something made up. What is truth except that which is believed and cannot be proven false?
Please see my post ( about young verus old writers

2/17/2006 1:26 PM  
Blogger Don in CA said...

I loved this piece. At nearly 74 I feel the same way. I even started a blog once, then trashed the whole thing when I realized (a) that no one would read it, and (b) that it didn't contribute to the world's body of knowledge---merely repeating stuff that everyone should know anyway. But perhaps---just perhaps---I may have a certain perspective that may open someone else's mind a tiny bit, letting a different light shine in....don't give up!

2/21/2006 12:55 PM  

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