Saturday, April 25, 2009


The insecurity that comes with writing, well, that I sometimes get anyway, has a few cures. Unfortunately, the only one that I know of is alcohol. I have noticed over time that when I've had a few I actually write pretty well. I have fewer stilted sentences and the whole thing flows pretty well. Too much of course, and you forget about what you're doing and wander off to see what's in the freezer. Cake! But just one or two and suddenly the fear of shredding a sentence is gone and you don't develop that stiffness that can sometimes occur with too much thought put into exactly where every word is going to go.

There has been the odd time, however, when too many did indeed occur and I wrote something that ended up strange and yet not as strange as you might think. I literally don't remember writing this. That's a weird feeling. You log into your Blogger account and think WTF? Have I been hacked? By someone who loves Shelley? Probably not.

Luckily, having a few too many only occurs during those rare recreational times and not when I have client work to do. I do love creating weird essays and Hubs for my own amusement, though, during those occasions. I think they're actually a lot closer to the type of writing that I'd eventually like to do. Don't we all get into this because we eventually want to write fiction? That seems to get further and further away as time passes.

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