Friday, May 22, 2015
But somewhere around the third or fourth step my mind has already wandered off in another direction and by the time I land on the first floor I've already forgotten the admonishment. Everything else gets in the way. A writer writes. Indeed. Perhaps, as I think I have tried to establish multiple times, this is exactly why I don't write. Perhaps it is because I am not one. Perhaps it is because, as evidenced by my moniker, I'm a thinker not a writer. And thinking is a much more dangerous thing.
One of my best friends brought back from a trip a little gift for me. It's a postcard which I use as a bookmark. It is a glossy pale gray with a black and white photo of an old typewriter. And in large print it reads: "I write because I don't know what to think until I read what I say." I'm sure she had good intentions; she thinks I am a writer so she probably thought I could relate. I don't know if it was so much a gift as it is a curse. I spend what some might consider an inordinate amount of time pondering that quote. I'm just not sure what I think of it. At the very least it annoys me because it reminds me almost daily that I mostly don't write. But it also challenges me mentally. Is that true for me, for one who is mostly not a writer? Or is it only true of those who physically write. I feel like I think a lot. And while I'm thinking I'm mentally typing words on imaginary paper. Is that the same thing? Does that count? I get so wrapped up in thinking that I don't actually write; I don't actually put thoughts down in actual words. Thinking might actually distract me from writing! See what I mean?
And so, once again, I am determined to set aside not only time but thinking, on a regular basis, so that I "just write." Just start putting something on paper so that when I do start thinking it might actually flow through my fingers and not out into the ethosphere. A writer writes. A thinker thinks. And maybe the two can co-exist.