Well, anyway, not today. I’m terribly out of touch. It happens sometimes to people. Since I don’t believe in “writer’s block” or that inspiration is necessary to write, I honestly have no good excuse. I’ve spent two perfectly good, perfectly free weekends doing essentially nothing. Well, I take that back; I’ve started and finished reading several good books. Among them, a collection of essays by Barbara Kingsolver (High Tide in Tucson), Allison Moore’s The Lighthouse, and the second and third books in James Dashner’s Maze Runner trilogy, and now making headway through Kevin Brooks’ Being. I also played some Skyrim and rested enough to kick the cough I’ve had since early December.
All the reading, gaming, cooking, keeping house, and going to my day job and keeping up with all that the day job requires, however, has not prevented me from feeling like a slug for not writing.
I swore to one of the sophomores in the early days of class that inspiration was not required to write well. She looked at me as if I had consumed the moon in one bite. Obviously, my credibility is less than stellar (pun intended).
Ok, fine. I’m here. I’m writing. I’m absolutely not inspired. That’s okay. Besides, it’s not as though I haven’t been writing, but I’ve not been writing things I’m ready to share with the blog. Pieces that I may never share with the blog: snippets of poetry in English and Spanish, lesson plans (I say they count, what will all the invention necessary), letters to beloved teachers, far far too many facebook status updates. I started keeping a regular journal again and have half a million writing ideas. What I want is TIME. Time to write. But if I don’t take the big chunks of time I’ve worked to clear out from underneath paper grading and administrative tasks, what else can I expect?
No, Barbara, writing does not require inspiration. Writing requires applying one’s backside to the chair in front of the page (whether paper or digital) and doing the writing. Re-reading the writing. Rewriting the writing. And then writing some more. Writing requires the patience to look inside, even if the writer is only looking inside to write about a crummy topic assigned by a blasted teacher who doesn’t ever write. Not ever. I write. I write a lot. Not as much as I should, most likely, but since I don’t make my living from these pixelated letters (yet) there is not always time or energy. But Neil Gaiman rule number one is “Write.” [please see http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/09/28/neil-gaiman-8-rules-of-writing/ for all eight rules]. I have not been keeping at it. But starting today, in spite of the stacks of essays to grade, in spite of Skyrim, in spite of the Superbowl, and every other life thing that must happen sooner or later, I will write. So that means you may be reading lots of bad writing, but you will be seeing writing of some kind.
Hope you guys haven’t been too lonely without me. [As if.] And I hope to drive you bonkers at least once a week again here on the inky highway.
Con cariño y abrazos ~LD