Running Around

image from here

The thing about being a writer is that it isn’t easy, so I’m going to rant about it. Oops.

As a writer, I am very conscious. Actually, I am also a cognizant-of-her-surroundings person – I’m looking up and around in between words and I can faintly hear someone in the neighborhood talking; I can hear some frying from the kitchen. And air is blowing in my face thanks to the electric fan next to the table, and I keep looking back at my other open tabs. I can get really distracted and aware of many different things and that’s okay as a human, I guess. But when it comes to being the aspiring writer that I am, it sucks. Bad.

Honestly, I am not the kind of writer who types and types and reviews later. I’m the kind who types then stops in the middle of a sentence and reads almost everything all over again. I irritate myself to no end, and if I could stop myself I would. But yeahhh, I can’t. And as I look over my words – noun, verb, adjective, pronoun – I squint on the inside and see how redundant I can be with my adjectives or verbs. Then later I try to remember a substitute/synonym for them until I can’t find any and I end up dumping my head into my sad, sad hands.

Believe me when I say that writers are mercurial people, especially when they want to deal with stories of their own. We devolve from one state of feeling to another; we listen to words and sounds and debate and watch; we do our best to be in between our sentences rather than writing them down. We are persons gifting the world with an overflowing plethora of words that twist to life. It isn’t a simple ride, but I can assure that I – and many other writers, I’m absolutely sure – enjoy it. We shift from one fictional mind to another and we see, although we may not agree. We bleed. It’s what we do best.

I stayed up thinking about this last night. And I love being a writer and a reader. You learn to aspire and you aspire to learn while you read, and then later you write. You crawl, then walk, then run, then fly. It’s a cycle and I love going through it, dizzy and out of breath. Writers are ubiquitous if you think about it, because we skip from one world to another.

I hope you write today.