Why is it so hard for me to say the things that I think?

Seriously, why?

I’m thinking things right now, but all I do is write something down, stop, get stuck, go back.

I think I’m trying to write all the things I should be doing and trying to do all the things I’ve been writing.

I really need to figure some things out. I need to figure out where I’m coming from and where I’m going. I need to establish me. Maybe start a serious writing career.

I’ve enjoyed writing here. I have to admit that lately I’ve been the most content when free to write with no boundaries. It’s a cool feeling to have inspiration hit and be able to write it and share it instantly. It leaves one feeling very vulnerable, to be sure, but the satisfaction is immediate.

I could almost make the argument that blogging, in some instances, is an art form. Like other art forms, exposing your thoughts through writing at their initial point of genesis provides a very raw insight into the idea on which the thought was born. The catch is that the reader seldom has any idea as to that which was the initial thought.

What I’m getting at is simple. I love writing. I want to write for a living. Like this. I want to have the freedom (and I mean that in a non-Constitutional way) to be able to simply write. What a simple desire and probably shared by a lot of people. But how many people actually strive to achieve it? Sure we talk about it. Everyone talks about it. But how many people actually work to make it happen? Go to a bookstore and you’ll see the shelves are full of them. I just need to be one of those people that make it happen.

Hopefully this is what this blog has begun to train me for. I’ve needed a reason to write everyday.

I remember reading Cruel Shoes by Steve Martin as a kid. His humor was so detatched and random. I almost got the feeling that the chapters were pieced together as though they were thrown into the air and picked back up at random. But at the same time, it wouldn’t surprise me to know that each chapter was specifically placed for reasons far too deep for us to fathom, and way too goddamn funny for us to appreciate. I want to be regarded by people that way. I want to make people laugh without thinking, and think while they’re laughing.

Certainly many writers’ single biggest hangup is sitting down and actually writing. One the reasons for a block in motivation like this might be a lack of an outlet. Along with that though, I think I’ve discovered over the years that it’s hard to make oneself write with a particular voice if one is not sure that voice will actually be heard. Sometimes, rather than speak up and try harder to be heard, the voice trails of as if the writer believes that to continue would be futile. But at the same time, if he doesn’t try, then nothing happens. Good, or bad.

What I’m getting at is that I’m thankful to have this outlet which provides me with the knowledge that there are actually people out there who enjoy what I write. That’s really all the motivation I need. At least I hope it’s being enjoyed. If nothing else, it’s nice to know that it’s at least being read.

Not that my posts are all littered with purpose and meaning, few, if any, are. But never underestimate the unknown motivation of raw thoughts. They come from somewhere.

2 thoughts on “A blogger’s lament. (Or “What the hell is he talking about?”)

  1. It’s hard to write what you think because your brain has millions more connections than can be conveyed with a few thousand words (and the permutations of word combinations).

    Steve Martin kicks ass. (Now, that thought translated perfectly so maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s