Friday, November 11, 2005

Finding Abby

There's a wonderful line in the movie Finding Forrester where Sean Connery's character William Forrester tells his protegé Jamal that the secret to writing is to write. You've simply got to bite the bullet and do it. I find this hard. I avoid writing like the plague. I love conversation and talking. I like blogs, because they are conversations with comments. I like the interaction, but I find writing really painful.

Sometimes my thoughts are flying fast and furious, and I dart too quickly from one to the other. It makes sense in my own mind, but under the calm light of day I realize that what I've written is just dreck. Other times, when I'm down I can barely string a few words together, because my head is simply too slow. The strange thing is how similar these two states are in terms of output. It's hard to get anything out, to say anything useful. I'm jealous of the hyper productive, extremely jealous.

And writing is a lonely endeavor. If I could spend a couple of hours a day in quiet contemplation writing away, I think I might be okay, but I would need a secretary and a cook to make sure that I was well nourished and that I saw my friends. Writing is hard, but maybe, if I resolve to do a bit every day, I will be a bit better.


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