I write because I’m a professional writer.
I sit down and wrestle and force.
I abuse and beat the keyboard to make a story appear on this screen.
The words blink out letter by little letter.
From blank to a small group, then a space, then another small group.
They follow along in these little trains that chug and choo-choo across a white expanse.
This is how a professional writer does it.
He doesn’t always feeeeeeel like writing.
He doesn’t always start with inspiration and clarity and purpose and vigor.
Sometimes, ya gotta just sit down and write.
The story is already existing, there is no point in waiting for it. It can only appear as ends of fingers cup into little plastic springy squares over and over. When the sounds of tinks and clinks fills the ear, or as pen is pushed across page, a story is born.
Not in silence.
All thoughts of the story, all mind creation, are empty and valueless until recorded, then accessed by someone who cares.
I have waited many times. I have wanted to have the picture complete, before beginning.
I sit aimlessly distracted. Small uninteresting movements. Tele Vision. Snack. What Ever.
When my time is up, when I give up the waiting, the story appears. A procrastinator. Me.
Every one of these blogs is birthed in living, then chewed on in the brain, then posted.
Except this one.
I just sat down, and began.
I Declare, to Begin Beginning to Live, Before I’m Sure How it All Will Work Out.
I Declare to Become a Professional, and make a Practice out of This.
Someone who knows, like they know, that they know, that ACTION and STARTING is where the story is born. It’s where our LIFE is Born.
Not in the futile waiting for inspiration to arrive at some unknown future moment.
It’s NOW. We Make It with Motion.