3/365: Tuesday, October 18, 2021
I feel like I am excavating each sentence out of a big silent field in my brain; nothing is arising like it’s supposed to be a flow in a content of recognize-it’s-writing-in-here-,self.
Update, an hour or two later: I’ve scavenged around the many locations in my house I have my piles and/or shelves of books, seeking out one book in particular (not the one pictured, duh), and picking up a few more as the ideas came back to me. I’ve had a particular book concept (about reading books!) in me for almost a dozen years, and I’m introducing it into the momentum I’ve initiated this week. Ok, I’ll be back.
Remember some faves from when I was on a roll with blogging fluidly in 2006–I’ve been hoping to do this, and then dig up those kinks out of the archive here and make them public again.
I can here my mentor from FringeNYC, Elena K. Holy, saying “It’s hard, y’all.” She’s talking about the difficulties of theater producing, but right now in my writing brain, sagely agreeing. Yes. It’s hard, y’all. And it didn’t used to be, before. I used to love writing.
Update, an hour or two later: I’ve scavenged around the many locations in my house I have my piles and/or shelves of books, seeking out one book in particular (not the one pictured, duh), and picking up a few more as the ideas came back to me. I’ve had a particular book concept (about reading books!) in me for almost a dozen years, and I’m introducing it into the momentum I’ve initiated this week. Ok, I’ll be back.
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