I’ve always thought I would be a writer. I’m not sure why the English Department at the University of Oregon didn’t agree with that assessment when I took a writing test to challenge a required writing course. That’s okay, though, I learned a lot in that class that later helped me with the professional writing I did as part of my job as a bank trust officer. But that type of writing isn’t the type I always imagined myself doing. Neither do I see myself as a novelist. I’m a real world type of person and the idea of creating a make believe world is simply beyond my comprehension. Even when I read novels, I frequently find myself disbelieving the events, actions, and plot lines.
I’ve always thought I have somewhat unique insights about life and human interaction, so I’ve always thought I would write about them. The thing about writing is, when I’ve worked a thought over in my mind and managed to transfer it from pings and zings inside my brain to a readable format, I feel great. I get a feeling of release and satisfaction. However, getting from pings and zings to readable doesn’t just happen. It’s work. Sometimes it’s easier to just let my brain skate along, not worrying about what to do with the pings and zings. I’m feeling that way now. Why did I sign up for this writing challenge? Why did I announce it to the world? Sorting out the pings and zings is so HARD! I keep reminding myself about Dr. Seuss’ mountain in the quote from my first post, Hello Inspiration! I don’t want to skate; I want to climb that mountain. I want to write this book. I want to harness those pings and zings.
Writing is thinking and thinking is hard work. --Lewis Black