inspired by susmaryosep (3 kowtows to you).
blogging is writing is breathing. when some bloggers strain to "write
something, anything," i shouldn't presume they're doing so for the money. writers
continuously chase their muse. sometimes they succeed, sometimes not.
before blogging was invented, every aspiring writer's wastebasket was
her private domain. now blogs and email groups are public domain, where
one's trash is another's gem. you never can tell.
in
college, a favorite lit teachers taught us: if you aspire to succeed as
a writer, the most basic thing you do is to keep a daily journal. and
by god, make sure you do write a daily entry, even if it's just one
paragraph. force yourself to write that one paragraph -- cajole
yourself, bribe yourself, stroke yourself, quarrel with youself, do
anything, or don't do anything else, but write that daily paragraph. 9
times out of 10 what you write will feel yucky and icky, something that
an anorexic or a bulimic just threw up. but that 1/10th worth saving
means the other 9/10ths have played their role. flowers grow on dirt.
i
tried to follow my teach's advice, but kept skipping, sometimes going
through entire weeks with no new journal entries. one time i thought
the problem was with my journal's physical format, so i kept changing
notebooks. at other times i kept changing my writing pen, the angle of
my table light, and so on. until i saw a film about an aspiring young
black writer living in the 'hood (finding forrester, that's the title, thanks weirdworld i owe you!), his
rucksack full of journal notebooks.
then it hit me: i should commit
myself to write daily even if i got chained to a cot for 5 years in an
unlighted prison cell, with no access to pencil and paper.



