WRITING

to write or not to write, sometimes I question

There is no rhyme or reason

to how I write

as I write the way I think: in tangents.

Releasing thoughts on paper makes them real, they come alive and keep from getting lost in space — as opposed to being lost in boxes and piles, handbags and jacket pockets, golf bag.

I am not organized in my writing, and even if I were I would not follow the script. It is not in my genes, bewildering as that is even to myself. But I try and will continue to try.

I write to put on paper what I want out of my head,

write on the margins of books, scorecards, magazines, napkins.

Words are dynamic & fluid, they move. I like that because I like|need change and movement, even in stillness and silence, which at times ground me.

I type too, but often write on paper, as it draws out thoughts which at times can be unstoppable so that I can barely keep up.

Sometimes I write to see ink morph into words. To just write. For no reason.

It's why I write on everything.

91

Character sketches

975

Ideas

217

voice memos

37

Shorts

Sometimes (seldom) I have the ending or title or the crux of the story, at others nothing. But I could write all the time. It's why I have pen and paper everywhere. Have 217 voice memos (have yet to put them somewhere), for when there was no pen and paper or I was driving. My commute to work used to be fifty minutes on a good day and I could think, my mind running amok, whether listening to music, the news, or in silence.

I work from home now, and

though I write less,

(makes no sense, except that the outlet of commuting, the much hated 'wasted' time, is gone), I still come up with dialogue or concepts on almost a daily basis.

quotes - links - poems - ideas - prompts - shorts - short shorts - words (there are so many) - terms of use - snippets

words scribbled wherever: to use or wonder, or wander

inexorable

unyielding;

unalterable

querulous

characterized by, or uttered in, complaint; peevish

precocious

unusually advanced in development, especially mental development

solecism

any error, impropriety, or inconsistency

mimosa

(not a cocktail)

pampered & playful coquette

concatenation

a series of interdependent things or events; connection

insolence | quagmire | vociferous

We all have a story to tell, a truth to unveil.

beginnings

Just as the beginnings, and for that matter,

all of my writings, happened without me meaning it, I am unable to pinpoint

a desire for the craft.

I DID NOT DEVELOP

My SAT scores showed I was adept in literature but not math,

debunked in my young mind when I became Honor Student in my senior year -

1st and only time - and particularly excelled in a harrowing calculus class.

THE CONCEPT,

My English was barely basic 4 years earlier when we moved to the states,

so the SAT scores baffled me.

IT WAS NEVER IN MY HEAD

Nevertheless, what I did have always, which I still do,

is a love of paper, notebooks, pens & pencils.

Was I born a writer? Doubt it. I believe most of us, if not all, can tell stories and have a tale to tell. We may not think we do until the moment when only writing (using our body | forming with our hands) what is inside will satisfy the soul, the anger or fear, whichever sentiment has landed us in front of a piece of paper or a computer screen + keyboard.

For me the connection is more intense, and the flow of words almost unstoppable, when I write with an instrument on a surface — pen or pencil, crayon, finger ... on paper, sand, skin, napkin, magazine. Whatever. Often thoughts and processes become clearer when I write them down and can see them. Perhaps why calculus, and then statistics in college, were so much easier than other maths.

This snippet I originally scribbled on scrap paper in the semi-darkness before dawn (my favorite time of day) on a kitchen island while waiting for my chai to heat on the stove. I avoid the microwave as much as I can. May be a read for another day.

Challenge

Write voice memos & scribblings here or in the Journal section? Start a blog?

Solution

Think about it, maybe try it all.

something about what you said yesterday keeps revolving over & over in my head

we travel in a circle

it seemed a constricting thought, but circles can be intrinsic, so i thought ... we do travel in a circle, broken yet not, together even though we pull apart.

September '09 scribbling

beginnings

Just as the beginnings, and for that matter:

all of my writings, happened without me meaning it, I am unable to pinpoint

a desire for the craft.

I DID NOT DEVELOP

My SAT scores showed I was adept in literature but not math, debunked in my young mind when I became Honor Student in my senior year - 1st and only time - and particularly excelled in a harrowing calculus class.

THE CONCEPT,

My English was barely basic 4 years earlier when we moved to the states,

so the SAT scores baffled me.

IT WAS NEVER IN MY HEAD

Nevertheless, what I did have always, which I still do,

is a love of paper, notebooks, pens, & pencils.

Was I born a writer? Doubt it. I believe most of us, if not all, can tell stories and have a tale to tell. We may not think we do until the moment when only writing (using our body | forming with our hands) what is inside will satisfy the soul, the anger or fear, whichever sentiment has landed us in front of a piece of paper or a computer screen + keyboard.

For me the connection is more intense, and the flow of words almost unstoppable, when I write with an instrument on a surface — pen or pencil, crayon, finger ... on paper, sand, skin, napkin, magazine. Whatever. Often thoughts and processes become clearer when I write them down and can see them. Perhaps why calculus, and then statistics in college, were so much easier than other maths.

This snippet I originally scribbled on scrap paper in the semi-darkness before dawn (my favorite time of day) on a slim kitchen island while waiting for my chai to heat on the stove. I avoid the microwave as much as I can. May be a read for another day.

Challenge

Write voice memos & scribblings here or in the Journal section? Start a blog?

Solution

Think about it, maybe try it all.

words scribbled wherever: to use or wonder, or wander

to write or not to write, sometimes I question