top reasons I'm not a good writer
Top Reasons I'm Not a Good Writer (in no particular order)
1. I've never done drugs.
2. I expect everything to come easily for me.
3. My job title is Writing Coordinator.
4. I got a NS (=Not Satisfactory) grade in writing on my 2nd grade report card.
alternatives (4 steps to becoming a Good Writer)
1. Be generous. Generosity might not be as drastic an alteration as is LSD, but there's something about it that flickers and whistles and beckons me away from my usual world. And I wake up somewhere I didn't expect, somewhere more fantastic, somewhere out of the ordinary. There's something chemical in generosity, don't you think?
2. Growing up, I was always the smartest in my class. But I'm not in classes anymore, and I'm intimidated by people who have more work and life experience than me. ...Cursed intelligence! You made me stupid...or at least made it difficult for me to adapt to the unprecedented height of the mental walls of Writer's Block. ...it's like running. I hate running because it's hard. I have to eat balanced meals, drink enough fluids, sleep through 2-3 REM cycles every night, wear the right running gear, do the necessary stretches... and even then it sometimes my muscles cramp and my lungs burn and i feel gangly and uncoordinated and my eyes sting with sweat. [sigh.] So I guess, on both accounts, I need some rigorous training. And it's going to be hard.
3. You heard me. My official, real-life job title is Writing Coordinator. The problem with this is there's too much pressure. I'm terrified. I'm skeptical. I'm queasy. I mean, I have a physics degree. I started writing and making films because they were blue-raspberry flavored popsicles to my brain dry-heaving on quantum mechanics. Is that completely dramatic?? Should I be embarrassed by that analogy? ...regardless, I wonder...What if I -- KristinK -- can't write? (Don't worry, it's just my Alter-Ego writing this blog entry...it's not the real KristinK.)
4. Maybe I'm still scarred, I don't know. But all I remember is being handed one of those ridiculos 1-inch ruled sheets of papers (if you're in 2nd grade, you know what I'm talking about), and I was told to write. Anything that came to mind. A story, a feeling, an idea. Anything that came to my little 2nd-grade mind. ...the problem was that nothing came to this little 2nd-grade mind. I went blank. The blankness seemed to pulse in sync with the second hand of the clock above the blackboard. ...Blank...blank...blank.... This 2nd-grade experience of Writer's Block is probably nothing more than an early manifestation of my perfectionism; I wanted the ending to be perfect before I even started writing. ...too bad perfectionism is a writer's worst enemy. Maybe I need to go back and read Anne Lamott's chapter on "Perfectionism" in Bird by Bird...
postscript
God, make me a writer. And -- writer or not -- I'm hoping you'll write plots into my life that I could never have hallucinated -- even with the help of the best drugs and my Alter-Ego.
1. I've never done drugs.
2. I expect everything to come easily for me.
3. My job title is Writing Coordinator.
4. I got a NS (=Not Satisfactory) grade in writing on my 2nd grade report card.
alternatives (4 steps to becoming a Good Writer)
1. Be generous. Generosity might not be as drastic an alteration as is LSD, but there's something about it that flickers and whistles and beckons me away from my usual world. And I wake up somewhere I didn't expect, somewhere more fantastic, somewhere out of the ordinary. There's something chemical in generosity, don't you think?
2. Growing up, I was always the smartest in my class. But I'm not in classes anymore, and I'm intimidated by people who have more work and life experience than me. ...Cursed intelligence! You made me stupid...or at least made it difficult for me to adapt to the unprecedented height of the mental walls of Writer's Block. ...it's like running. I hate running because it's hard. I have to eat balanced meals, drink enough fluids, sleep through 2-3 REM cycles every night, wear the right running gear, do the necessary stretches... and even then it sometimes my muscles cramp and my lungs burn and i feel gangly and uncoordinated and my eyes sting with sweat. [sigh.] So I guess, on both accounts, I need some rigorous training. And it's going to be hard.
3. You heard me. My official, real-life job title is Writing Coordinator. The problem with this is there's too much pressure. I'm terrified. I'm skeptical. I'm queasy. I mean, I have a physics degree. I started writing and making films because they were blue-raspberry flavored popsicles to my brain dry-heaving on quantum mechanics. Is that completely dramatic?? Should I be embarrassed by that analogy? ...regardless, I wonder...What if I -- KristinK -- can't write? (Don't worry, it's just my Alter-Ego writing this blog entry...it's not the real KristinK.)
4. Maybe I'm still scarred, I don't know. But all I remember is being handed one of those ridiculos 1-inch ruled sheets of papers (if you're in 2nd grade, you know what I'm talking about), and I was told to write. Anything that came to mind. A story, a feeling, an idea. Anything that came to my little 2nd-grade mind. ...the problem was that nothing came to this little 2nd-grade mind. I went blank. The blankness seemed to pulse in sync with the second hand of the clock above the blackboard. ...Blank...blank...blank.... This 2nd-grade experience of Writer's Block is probably nothing more than an early manifestation of my perfectionism; I wanted the ending to be perfect before I even started writing. ...too bad perfectionism is a writer's worst enemy. Maybe I need to go back and read Anne Lamott's chapter on "Perfectionism" in Bird by Bird...
postscript
God, make me a writer. And -- writer or not -- I'm hoping you'll write plots into my life that I could never have hallucinated -- even with the help of the best drugs and my Alter-Ego.
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