“Writing is easy. Just sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”
Red Smith said that. I’ve always wondered what the jesus he was talking about? Writing doesn’t “hurt”, writing isn’t “hard,” it feels better than anything in the world! Hemingway (the genius) said:
“Do you suffer when you write? I don’t at all. Suffer like a bastard when don’t write, or just before, and feel empty and f**ked out afterwards. But never feel as good as while writing.”
Ladies and Gentlemen, Hemingway called it! I’ve never “suffered” at *all* while writing, it’s my favorite thing in the world . . . but being blocked is a bitch. I could sure use old Earnie boy as a buddy right now, I bet the bastard could talk some sense into me! I’ve lost the will to write! What if every writer, every poet only gets a set number of words to jot down and I’ve used all mine up? Perhaps there’s nothing important left for me to say? Or maybe I did this to myself by wishing I could be happy with a steady job and 9 to 5 like a normal person?
I wish I’d thought of how much I hated not writing before I wished not to be a writer. I’m completely miserable.
I need a muse.
Thank you. Come again.