Discovering the Relevance of Words
It happens to me at least once every time I sit down to write.
After the initial enthusiasm wears off and I find myself staring at a piece of writing I’m not sure what to do with, I often begin to ask myself existential, David Byrnian questions.
What am I doing?
How did I get here?
How do I work this?
I’ve often wondered about the strange impulse that impels some of us to write. To be so honest with strangers who may or not ever bother to read the words we have so carefully chosen. To spend so much of our short lives writing our names on the water. The big picture can be paralyzing if you dwell on it.
But then I hear a song, or see a bird, or some other cliched crap and an idea takes me. I feel the enthusiasm and begin writing again, all thoughts of pointlessness banished. Until my hand cramps and I put the pen down, doubts returning.
This is not my beautiful house.
This is not my beautiful wife.
The only way to fight these doubts is to keep writing. At least that’s what I tell myself. If I let them stop me from writing I’m not a writer anymore. Then what?
Desperation keeps me writing. What makes you write when you’d rather quit?