On Writing

There are times I just can’t shut my mind off; when I sit down with a good book, but the evil muse bids me write.

And if I knew what he wanted me to write—my muse is surely male—it’d all be so easy. Just get a few words onto the page and I could go back to enjoying my reading.

 But it never is quite that easy. He interrupts a perfectly good read and then leaves me sitting empty-headed at the laptop. Hardly seems fair, but certainly seems male.

 John and I, while on our two-hour one hour car ride, in which Crystal drives in a big ol’ loop instead of a straight line, discussed the idea of professional writing, the skill level needed and the fear that comes with never feeling quite good enough.

 And that is the demon that casts a shadow over my writing—inadequacy. And it all seems quite silly, to be perfectly honest.

 I like the way I write, though I can see the flaws so apparently. I know that I am lazy and could be much better if I spent more time reading and more time writing. One does not become better by sitting on her ass watching Dexter and Grey’s Anatomy and Studio Sixty and Numb3rs, but she does become happier, and that is a trade off she is often willing to make.

 Other people like my writing. They tell me so all the time, and while I take the praise of close friends with the requisite grain of sodium chloride, the praise of relative strangers always catches me a little off guard and causes no small amount of vainglory.

 It is said vainglory that causes me to use words like vainglory and use silly rhetorical devices, like substituting sodium chloride when simple table salt would do. If you couldn’t tell, my writing is terribly self-aware. Sort of like I am, which is why you’ll never catch me in a sleeveless shirt or a bikini, at least not until I get rid of those pesky fifty pounds that just won’t go away.

Oh, now I am so depressed about my heft, I think I’ll go eat a half gallon of Bryers. That should help.

 And were I just going for the cheap, end it with a one-liner trick, that would be the end of my entry, but this damned muse still won’t let me read. Maybe he is the anti-Christ and doesn’t want me to read another glib Jesus book. Or maybe he is Jesus and doesn’t want me to read another glib Jesus book.

 Maybe I should write another glib Jesus book instead.

 (Sorry about the cheap, end it with a one-liner trick. Really, I am.)

7 responses to “On Writing

  1. at risk of triggering another bout of vainglory i have to say, of all the words i might choose to describe your writing and its accomanying shadows, ‘inadequacy’ (shadowy or otherwise) isn’t among them.

    and while substituting big words and awkward phrases can be pretentious and annoying if done improperly, if handled well it can also add interest and force the reader to think.

    like your sodium chloride reference.

    you even managed to pull off a third-person self reference with a sense of wry wit rather than grating smarminess

    insecurities aside, i think you would gain considerable notariety should you ever choose to write professionally.

    it is said that our gifts shall bring us before kings.

  2. You’re making me prideful. Stop it.

    But seriously, go on… 😉

  3. brahnamin (sevinhand)

    😉 you choose to be prideful. i am merely making a point

    on the other hand, i am also speaking the plain truth (with which the bulk of your readers would surely ag ree) so perhaps you have something to be proud of.

  4. Admittedly, my first thought was “RAWRRRRR! Crystal in a bikini!” (Followed quickly by, “Mmm… Breyers ice cream…!”)

    However, quickly banishing the pleasant though immoral thoughts, (well, maybe not exactly immoral… carnal, perhaps) I resolved forthwith to return with wit and class that would equal that put forth in your reflection. (In this pursuit, clearly I have failed, as my childish sentiments stayed about as hidden as a PlayStation3 on eBay.)

    Nonetheless, I too must admit with all candor that even should my eye never behold the author in her seductively tailored bathing garments nor my tongue again savor the sweet taste of scoop of natural vanilla bean, reading her prose would yet bring me great satisfaction.

    (But even so, don’t count on me swearing off the Breyers just yet…)

  5. there. you’ve been compared to ice cream. can there be any higher praise?

  6. I knew I had spelled Breyer’s wrong, but I was too lazy to go look it up.

    I don’t beleive there is higher praise than comparing me to ice cream, especially Breyers.

    Spence, it’s too bad you aren’t still here in God’s country, or praise like that might earn you a peek at my seductively tailored bathing garments. 😉

  7. Yeah, I’m working on it. I’ll have to make a trip up to visit Tufts (and maybe some other schools) before applying next year. Alas, permanent residence in Boston will not likely be until Fall ’08, at best.

    I’ll have to make sure to slip in some complimentary comments before my next trip though…

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