I write a lot. I always have. I just don’t share. I write to write, and I suppose that makes me a bit strange. But I like writing so much that I don’t care. Whether I use a computer, typewriter, pen… as long as I can get some words down and they stay put, I’m fine.
I’d probably write more if all I had were a typewriter or notebook and pen. I let myself get distracted so easily, even though I do have the crazy in me to sit down and write. I just don’t have the discipline; I’ve always struggled with the discipline. When I was in high school, I took a pre-cal honors class. I was previously horrible at math, and for some reason for this class I stayed up late to practice and re-practice problems until I got them right and understood why I got them right. I ended up making a 93 in the class, which is the lowest A you could make at my school, but I was so proud of my grade because math had never been my friend. I have no idea where that girl came from nor what happened to her after I received my final report card. I wish I could get her back. She was such a promising, focused student.
Whoa. Hey, you should just be proud you took pre-calc as a self-proclaimed non-math person, haha. Discipline is the hardest thing for me, too. It’s way too easy to be distracted by everything around you.
I’m writing because I’m not satisfied with much of the world around me. I want to put magic into the picture. I want to tell people a story. And because the plot bunnies attack a lot
I love that I knew this poem after reading just the first few lines. Bukowski is my god. I heard someone, somewhere once say that you shouldn’t be a writer unless there is absolutely nothing else that you can do. No idea who said, and I am probably paraphrasing, but it is right. There is this romantic fanciful fallacy about being a “writer”. People seem to want the title but don’t want to do the doing. Great post Cassie!
they didn’t want to/ write/ they wanted to/ succeed at/ writing
I see myself in those lines. Not always, but on occasion. I like your goal– not worrying about the where or the who but simply the word that comes next. I’d be wise to try to do the same.
I love this poem! And it’s SO strange that you should pose that question. I was JUST thinking about what I might like to chat with Peter Dewolf about for his podcast series and that popped into my head. Do you think you’d still write or write as much without an audience/this here internet?
Sometimes it feels like words possess me more than I do them, and they sit me down and demand to be written. They escape from my organs and seep out of my pores. Sometimes I don’t even know if I love writing, because it feels like more of a need than a love. Sometimes I don’t know what I think until I write it down.
Ahem. So, yes, basically. I think I’d still be writing.
“Sometimes I don’t even know if I love writing, because it feels like more of a need than a love.” YES. Me, too. That’s when I know I’m doing it right, though. So many writers have been quoted as saying how they hate writing, how it’s a masochistic act, how it’s pure pain and misery. And yet…
Yes. The next word. I like to think I’d still have been writing when it was quills on parchment
Me, too. Especially since back then, I would’ve taken lessons in calligraphy and actually had decent handwriting!
I write a lot. I always have. I just don’t share. I write to write, and I suppose that makes me a bit strange. But I like writing so much that I don’t care. Whether I use a computer, typewriter, pen… as long as I can get some words down and they stay put, I’m fine.
I don’t think that makes you strange. I think it makes you a true writer.
I’d probably write more if all I had were a typewriter or notebook and pen. I let myself get distracted so easily, even though I do have the crazy in me to sit down and write. I just don’t have the discipline; I’ve always struggled with the discipline. When I was in high school, I took a pre-cal honors class. I was previously horrible at math, and for some reason for this class I stayed up late to practice and re-practice problems until I got them right and understood why I got them right. I ended up making a 93 in the class, which is the lowest A you could make at my school, but I was so proud of my grade because math had never been my friend. I have no idea where that girl came from nor what happened to her after I received my final report card. I wish I could get her back. She was such a promising, focused student.
Whoa. Hey, you should just be proud you took pre-calc as a self-proclaimed non-math person, haha. Discipline is the hardest thing for me, too. It’s way too easy to be distracted by everything around you.
I’m writing because I’m not satisfied with much of the world around me. I want to put magic into the picture. I want to tell people a story. And because the plot bunnies attack a lot
Attack of the plot bunnies! That’s the best kind.
I love that I knew this poem after reading just the first few lines. Bukowski is my god. I heard someone, somewhere once say that you shouldn’t be a writer unless there is absolutely nothing else that you can do. No idea who said, and I am probably paraphrasing, but it is right. There is this romantic fanciful fallacy about being a “writer”. People seem to want the title but don’t want to do the doing. Great post Cassie!
Love it! I’ve heard that paraphrased quote somewhere, too. Must go to the Google machine. But it is accurate.
Cassie. I needed this. Thank you.
Happy to help.
I needed the reminder myself.
they didn’t want to/ write/ they wanted to/ succeed at/ writing
I see myself in those lines. Not always, but on occasion. I like your goal– not worrying about the where or the who but simply the word that comes next. I’d be wise to try to do the same.
I’ve been guilty of being one of the “they” in this poem, too, in the past. That’s when I know it’s time to reevaluate.
I love this poem! And it’s SO strange that you should pose that question. I was JUST thinking about what I might like to chat with Peter Dewolf about for his podcast series and that popped into my head. Do you think you’d still write or write as much without an audience/this here internet?
Sometimes it feels like words possess me more than I do them, and they sit me down and demand to be written. They escape from my organs and seep out of my pores. Sometimes I don’t even know if I love writing, because it feels like more of a need than a love. Sometimes I don’t know what I think until I write it down.
Ahem. So, yes, basically. I think I’d still be writing.
“Sometimes I don’t even know if I love writing, because it feels like more of a need than a love.” YES. Me, too. That’s when I know I’m doing it right, though. So many writers have been quoted as saying how they hate writing, how it’s a masochistic act, how it’s pure pain and misery. And yet…
love, love, love. have you seen this quote?