I miss writing sometimes. It’s a dull ache that I feel regularly, but most of the time I can ignore it. I can go for weeks or months on occasion, but at some point it becomes a song that hums inside me until I give it a voice.
I’d imagine it’s a bit like how some people just need a good fuck from time to time.
Similar. But with more words and fewer wet spots on the sheets.
I love words – I always have. I’ve still got a book that I began compiling during my angsty early teenage years. It’s a collection of quotes and poems from anything I happened to come across that spoke to me. Sometimes I didn’t really understand what the words meant, but I thought the words sounded beautiful so I filled them away to look at whenever I needed some love in my life.
I used to hunt through magazines and incense-filled hippy shops for postcards and pictures that seemed to go with the words. Then I’d spend a few hours writing out the words in ‘cool’ script and hand-drawing borders to frame the words.
(The things I used to fill my days with before fail videos on youtube and quizzes that can tell the year I was born in based on my favourite drink….)
I’m not exactly the most artistic person. I’m terrible at coordinating colours or interior decorating. I’ve never been able to compose music or draw. I was the person in art class who made nothing better than an ashtray out of clay (puke-coloured glaze) and I’m not all that good with living creatures either (human or botanical). But words and I have always had a good relationship.
I’m thinking seriously about writing another story. I’ve even got a few great opening lines (it’s all about the opening lines!) I’ve got a few stories started many years ago that I never really continued, but I’m not sure whether I should go for something a little more ‘mainstream’? (a.k.a not erotica and not science fiction/fantasy)
Anyway, that’s what’s going on in my mind at the moment. I think I need an outlet or to go back to yoga or a holiday or a new job or something. (The new apartment trick really didn’t work to shake things up this time, see last post.)
I still need to write about my trip to China last month (so much wrong) and several things about M and where we’re at these days. So many words to be written! Do I even have time to write another story?