There are few things more terrifying and also as infuriating as a blank document and that silly blinking cursor. With every disappearance followed by it’s immediate return, that cursor is taunting me.
“You haven’t written anything yet. Look at this blank page,” it says. “Look at how alone I am in this blizzard of nothingness that currently occupies your screen. You want to write something, to fill this page up with words, but you can’t, can you? You have NOTHING to say!”
Yep, it may seem like a harmless cursor, but don’t be fooled. That bastard is evil.
I’m not sure why I find writing so intimidating. I write in my head all day long, with ideas competing with each other for my attention. Maybe the problem is that this quickly escalates into a death match, and by the time the last idea standing is declared victorious, it’s been beaten to a bloody pulp, and is unpleasant to contemplate any further.
I’m really not quite sure.
However, all that being said, I’ve been writing lately. This is one of those things that I wanted to focus on in 2013, and I’m doing just that. I wish I could tell you that I was writing well, or consistently, but either of those things would be a lie.
On the other hand, I am honing my procrastination skills to an extraordinary degree. Last week I marathoned all of the Beautiful Creatures series by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl, reading four books in five days. And I’ve played approximately 1,483 games of solitaire on my phone.
I do not know why I’ve become addicted to solitaire, other than I have a better chance of winning than in any game that requires hand-eye coordination. Like Temple Run. I have enough reasons to be terrified of monkeys (see The Wizard of Oz) without having them chasing me in a game that I’ll eventually lose and then the monkeys will come and eat me. If you’ve never heard of Temple Run, now you know what it’s about. Evil monkeys.
Anyway, I’ve been writing down some stories from over a decade ago, all true, and that’s been a difficult process. Writing about real events is terrifying because one, there are real people involved and two, I barely remember what I had for lunch much less what I had for lunch in 2002. I’ve been reading Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) by Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) for inspiration. I think it’s working. I also think I need a giant, metal chicken.
What I’ve come to realize through this process is that solitaire is not an exciting game and Jenny Lawson is amazing.
Oh, and that writing only gets done when I sit down and force myself to write. Imagine that.
And with that, I’m going to get back to writing.