Flailing

I am being inspired by pieces I am reading out on the internet:

This, about crushes.

This, about lost loves.

This, about sweetness.

I want to write about my fleeting hopeful crushes, about things past, about incredible sweetness.

I have been busy and overwhelmed recently by Christmas, by people, by my book, by practicalities, and it saps my energy for writing. But I feel it bubbling now, which I love, but I am frustrated that I just don’t have the quiet around me that I need to get it out.

I read a quote somewhere that said that people think that those who fall in love with a writer must have the most beautiful things written about, and to them, but the truth was that those who fell in love with writers were cursed to live with people who shut them out so that they had the space to get their thoughts out as they envision them.

I am a hybrid beast in a way. When I am enamoured with someone, they inspire and challenge me in ways that I don’t fully understand. I want to write at them as if my words were arrows that carry a poisonous adoration in the tips, and if I pierce my target’s body enough times, deeply, fatally, they will fall at my feet and be mine. That kind of inspiration is a puzzle to me, and I don’t quite know how it works, but when I feel it, I will grab onto it greedily, hold it to me, and ready my quiver.

When I don’t have that inspiration, I have spikes of creativity that I want to take advantage of when I feel them. I want to jump all over them and write madly and see what comes out of my head. But I need the space and time and stillness to do that.

So instead of indulging in it, I am in a well of endless activity. I am frustrated and banging this out in the few moments I have before I head again out into the world to do things that are not worth putting onto a page anywhere ever.

Well, okay, if you want that stuff, you will find it on Twitter where every random thought lands and is rightfully forgotten within moments.

Like my Christmas day menu: Crispy Korean chicken wings and parpadelle with greens and ricotta *smile*.

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2 Comments

  1. “I want to write about my fleeting hopeful crushes, about things past, about incredible sweetness.”

    I love it when you write about things such as that. You paint such lovely, and inspiring word pictures. I hope you get that alone time soon, so you can express your creativity.

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