I write nearly 20 blog posts a day. I write them all in my head. Each one is eloquent and focused. I have things to say, people. Lots of things. But then, something happens...
I sit down with a keyboard and try to remember all of those inspiring words of wisdom and silly tales from my life and, as if by magic, poof--they all slip away, never to be crafted as perfectly as they were when they entered my head the first time around. This always discouraged me to the point of abandonment. Getting them half-right doesn't appeal to me when I know the perfect version spins around out there, somewhere in the ether, lost forever.
Carry a small voice recorder! I hear you shout. That doesn't work. It has the same effect as a keyboard, or pen and paper. It needs to flow from my brain into creation instantly without interruption or disruption of thought (there is a difference, you know). I look forward to the time when a tiny implant in the brain will instantly record every thought and notion that settles upon me in a day.
I wonder how many people are afflicted by the same problem? Who else is Hemingway in their head, but something less than average on the page? Am I the only one, or are we all brilliant writers/poets until the means to record it is before us?
Part of me feels like I would like to be, and could succeed as, a writer. Then reality sets in. I feel the same way about music. It's in my head and my soul, but the means by which to share it with anyone else eludes me.
<CRYPTIC BIT AT THE END>
But art... art is finally starting to show itself as what I do and what I am. I'm less about what you hear, than what you see these days. Maybe it's a bit of foreshadowing...
</CRYPTIC BIT AT THE END>
I sit down with a keyboard and try to remember all of those inspiring words of wisdom and silly tales from my life and, as if by magic, poof--they all slip away, never to be crafted as perfectly as they were when they entered my head the first time around. This always discouraged me to the point of abandonment. Getting them half-right doesn't appeal to me when I know the perfect version spins around out there, somewhere in the ether, lost forever.
Carry a small voice recorder! I hear you shout. That doesn't work. It has the same effect as a keyboard, or pen and paper. It needs to flow from my brain into creation instantly without interruption or disruption of thought (there is a difference, you know). I look forward to the time when a tiny implant in the brain will instantly record every thought and notion that settles upon me in a day.
I wonder how many people are afflicted by the same problem? Who else is Hemingway in their head, but something less than average on the page? Am I the only one, or are we all brilliant writers/poets until the means to record it is before us?
Part of me feels like I would like to be, and could succeed as, a writer. Then reality sets in. I feel the same way about music. It's in my head and my soul, but the means by which to share it with anyone else eludes me.
<CRYPTIC BIT AT THE END>
But art... art is finally starting to show itself as what I do and what I am. I'm less about what you hear, than what you see these days. Maybe it's a bit of foreshadowing...
</CRYPTIC BIT AT THE END>
randomtask777:
interesting, i also have the same "affliction"
lolablu:
I like reading your blogs. If you became a writer, I'd be your first fan. 