Writing thus far

I’ve been writing for close to four years now and have been published in a few publications here and there, including  good ol’ Unsaid But Written, which is not really a publication but a blog. My blog. 🙂 I’ve made a few observations in the course of my esteemed vocation. It’s interesting that writing does not get easier as time goes by. Neither is it guaranteed that your writing will get better with time. You’re only as good as your last piece in this field. Sadly. Today you’re a star, riding high on that literary wave. Tomorrow, you’re wading in a murky, shallow pool of nonsensical words.

Every time you think you’re used to writing or used to the natural order of things, you encounter Writers Block (which is increasingly being dispelled as a lethargy-induced myth by one of my editors), lack of ideas, lack of motivation, hunger, anger, laziness, Twitter, scones (they’re on my desk as I write this), among many other challenges facing today’s writer. Saying today’s writer may be incorrect. I mean, I cannot imagine the challenges faced by writers of yore. Really, I cannot. My hardships must pale in comparison to theirs.

Writing with feathers must’ve been quite the task. The tip of the feather probably must’ve blunted or broken severally. Not to mention running out of ink. Or chicken, among other poultry or exotic birds that I imagine were the source of these writing implements. Or choking on tiny feathers accidentally ingested. Inspiration doesn’t seem like it was a problem then. Look at history. They’ve probably exhausted all the stuff that could be written about!

Currently, I write for a local family magazine. Some days are good. Sometimes I write stories from what initially seems like NOTHING (and I’m not sure the use of caps here emphasize the nothingness I’m referring to). I end up feeling like superwoman and I resort to using phrases like, “Who’s your daddy? Er…I mean mommy. Who’s your mommy?” Somehow daddy sounds more hard-hitting.

And some days like today, actually right now, I want to yank the wires out of my computer and throw it out the window, which would probably not do much damage seeing as our building is not storied. Sigh. I mean I have a great story sitting on my computer. A great story about a great person. A hero by all means. A great inspiration. Someone who NEEDS to be written about. I have more than enough information to write the said story, yet I cannot. It is an awesome story in my head yet I cannot translate my thoughts into 2,000 words of a great read. Also, the editor is waiting for said story as I blog.

Am I afraid I will not do any justice to this man’s story? Yes. Will I write the story anyway? Again, yes. Will I ask another question for effect, that I will then proceed to answer? Yes.

What is the moral of this blog post? I’m not sure. I haven’t blogged in a while. But that is not why I write this.  Maybe we need the drug they had in the movie Limitless. Maybe we need some sort of inspiration injection. Maybe I need to see something amazing and be infinitely inspired. A talking monkey or an actual pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I know none of these seem inspiring but none of you should doubt it because you haven’t seen them. I just need some inspiration. Any inspiration.

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