Finding the Story

I’ve returned to this page a thousand times. Every time I start fresh. Some days I manage to find a flow, like a mariner catching the trade winds or an explorer charting Amazonian tributaries. Most days, however, I am met with a wall where I chisel each letter as if carving the face of a monolith. On the days my words are forced, the empty page arrests my sentences like a concrete dam. On occasion, that damn will burst. When that happens, the page floods with currents of run-on sentences stirred with the debris of mixed metaphors that eddy confidently with far-fetched symbolism.

Then some days all goes as planned. At least, in that exact moment. Each word precedes the other like a steady march, one after the other just as ordained. I order letters to form words to form sentences to form paragraphs and then realize I have just rambled for five pages neglecting commas the whole way. Those days leave me with a unique disappointment. It’s as if I were working inside a dark workshop only to turn on the lights and discover I’ve nailed the wrong nails and cut the wrong boards.

So, I start over, hoping to find the end this time. That promised finality I know waits hidden behind the last punctuation of some undiscovered sentence. Like the explorer charting tributaries, I chart unwritten paragraphs for that final period, abusing my delete key the entire way.
I hope not to appear nihilistic. I am not disheartened by this chase, far from it. Like a runner who stretches before a jog, or a fisherman untangling his line, stories need time to take form—a lot of time. But for now, I think I’ll start over.

No matter; this wasn’t quite right anyway.

I Write Every Day and You Can Too

Writing. Yup. Writing. The thing we’re all trying to do here. Letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence. Everyone writes for their own reasons, but one thing I can say with confidence is that we all write because we love to write.

Then how come writing can be so damn hard!?

We all know the feeling. That dreaded writer’s block. We’ve all had those days where the last thing you want to do is put your butt in a chair and stare at a blinking black line on a great empty page.

But you have to. You’ve got to sit in that chair and you’ve got to WRITE! Once you manage that, even if it’s the bare minimum, you’ve already taken that step to make next time easier.

I write every day. Well, mostly. Life does get in the way some days, but the point is I write basically every day. And even if you struggle with daily, hourly, or near-constant writer’s block, you can also write Every Day. All you have to do is sit and write!

Great advice, I know. “Just write.” As if it were that simple. Well, what if I were to tell you that it was? Look, barring any deadlines, if you’re writing purely to write, the only person stopping yourself is you. Even if you manage a few sentences in an hour, that is still progress. A word on a page is a word that wasn’t there earlier. And there is no shame in writing something new for a day.

Writing can get overwhelming. It’s easy to get bogged down with the “I can’ts.”

Sometimes all it takes is a bit of a breather. Trust me, I get it. Writing can take a lot out of you, especially on a long piece of work. You can always put something on hold to refocus your energies. Understand that what we do as writers is hard. Be okay with it. Accept the challenge. Learn to love that challenge! No one is quite as insane as a dedicated writer. Revel in that.

Remind yourself you are a writer. Have confidence in your sentences. No one else is writing what you are. You are the master of your words. It is a wonderful thing. If you take your writing one day at a time, work on your routine, take breaks when you need to things will fall into place.

Before you know it, you won’t just be wanting to write, but needing to write. It will call you. Settle inside of you and beg you to get back to that big not-so-blank page. Yes, you will still have those days where writing may seem like a chore, but that allure will pull you back. Give yourself to your writing and it will become a part of everything you do.

Don’t give up. Just keep writing.

Press On The Gas

“Here, take the wheel and don’t fuck up,” my life says to me as I white knuckle the torn seat belt that ripped last December.

I grab on and shift into the driver’s seat. The cushion is stiff and smells of sweat—no, wait, that’s me. I adjust the seat and check the fuel gauge. It reads full, but the engine sputters and I don’t seem to be moving much. Is this what I’ve been building up to? Is this is what I’ve waded through years of school for?

Is it even legal for me to drive this thing?

I’ve got a degree pinned on my dash and hopes crammed in the trunk. The road ahead splits in thirteen different directions and the only store for miles is a 24 hour 7-Eleven. The only thing I do know is that three hours back, there’s a comfy little town with shops I know and places to sleep. It’d be easy to turn around, so easy it’s tempting. I could really go for a sundae and I know where to get the best one. Thing is, I’ve got this damned thing to drive. I paid for the gas over the last twenty-four years and I can’t let that go to waste.

There is really only one way to go. Forward. Just me and those dreams I’ve got jammed in the back. Gotta be careful with those. I know too many who didn’t jar them properly; curdled on the second week out here. Can’t say I blame them either. It’s damn hot and everything feels like a country away. But it’s my turn at it now

The land before me goes on and on and on and on until it doesn’t. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t terrifying. It’s easy to pull over, or turn around, or stop when the cases in the back become old and musty. But, you really can’t let those things stop you.

Grab the wheel, press on the gas, and don’t forget about what’s in the trunk. You’ll end up somewhere.

Head Forward, Fingers Down!

I’ve written this sentence ten times. That basically sums up my entire feelings about starting a blog. Where do you start, how do you keep going, and what the hell is the point? Well, here I am. I guess I’ll just keep at it.

I’ve been writing for years now. I’ve got a neat little folder smack in the center of my desktop labeled: “Writing.” And oh man is it full of “Writing.” Dozens of half-baked documents compete for real estate in the nested folder system I’ve halfheartedly imposed to keep things somewhat clean. The only true folder, the one above all, is the fabled “Finished work” folder, and even then, documents come flying out of that every time /i spend more than a minute re-reading what I’ve considered “finished.” I guess what I’m trying to say is, why not share? I have plenty of things to show the world. Good things? Well, that’s to be decided. But I’ve been sitting on top of my folder, miserly stashing any piece of work into the back corners of my hard drive. I will occasionally pull out a malnourished document fiddle with it like some deranged scientist only to stuff it back inside and turn away.

Well, not anymore.

I say it’s finally time to take my little creations into the sun and show them off to the world. One step up and one step out, It’s time to do something. And let me be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing.