Possibly the worst experience I encounter with any regularity as a writer—even worse than sitting in front of a blank page and not having any idea what to write—is sitting in front of a page full of words, fully aware of where I’m going with a story, and completely unable to find the words to get me there with any grace. Because once I know where I’m going, figuring out how to get there seems like it’d be the easy part (I could MapQuest it or something…surely there’s a MapQuest function that maps out narratives for you…well, there should be.)
I’m sitting at the Pick Me Up right now, ostensibly putting work into my pig story, but really just listening to music and, once in a while, writing a couple of sentences that I quickly delete because they sound forced and absolutely worthless. And I’m listening to music, which I already said, but it’s worth noting because “Paperback Writer” just came on, because I added it to my writing mix, because I thought it would be really clever to listen to a song about a failing writer while I wrote.
I am not clever. I am a putz.
Back to writing. Or whatever it is you call this nonsense I’m doing.
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