Sunday, October 24, 2004

How do I love thee?

"Let me count the ways." "I shall love thee more after death." It's my favourite poem, and I only know part of two lines -- the beginning and the end. Maybe it's because that's all that is important -- the beginning and the end. How we get away from something and how we get to something is not really important, is it? The rambling lines in between the beginning and the end is just Elizabeth going on and on and on and these lines aren't really important, are they? The point is, Robert, I love you, and I will love you always. That's all she's saying!

So why can't I say something, I love you, and become a legend, like Elizabeth? Why can't I put words together --- fill in the blanks between the beginning and the end --- and make so much money I'll never have to work again? Why can't I find that voice that I had in high school, that voice that my teachers heard, telling them that I was going to be a literary star? Where is it? I can't even find the beginning of that voice, let alone the end and then have the ability and the imagination required to stuff a bunch of words in the middle.

See, I'm writing as I'm thinking. And I'm thinking...of nothing. Except finding a beginning which will lead me to an end --- preferably an end in which I am rolling in money.

I think my problem is that I haven't really written since high school, since I wrote those brilliant papers that earned me some praise. A few times, I've been mad enough at my spouse to pound out about three pages worth of swear words, but nothing more.

So, this weblog, this public record of my thoughts, will be my sketchpad. Hopefully, here, I'll find my beginning.


At 2:02 AM, Blogger Dave Clapper said...

Good luck with the writing! God knows I could use a swift kick in my writing ass these days. Here's the deal, though, about the best way to find your voice again: write. Yeah, yeah, obvious, huh? But really! And I recommend doing it with a pen. It's been waaaaaaaay too long since I've sat down with pen and paper. Everything's at the damned keyboard. And there's something... 1000111100 about it. I miss writing with a different colored pen every day. Oh, and pick up a couple of Natalie Goldberg's books. If she can't get you writing, nobody can. Except maybe Ann Lamott. (But I like Natalie better.)

I'll let you go through the profile to figure out who the hell this "NaNoWriBlo" person is. :)


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