Writing about writing. Writing just to write. Writing because that is what writers do. Writing because I promised myself 20 minutes of daily, focused effort. Writing and wondering if that 20 minutes includes editing, or if I get bonus points for that. Writing because I don’t feel like doing the job I’m paid to do and maybe, in a roundabout way, this makes me a paid writer.
Writing to prove that I still can. Writing to fight atrophy. Writing to appease the muses. Writing in hopes that something will come to me. Writing about writing because I have nothing else to write about. Writing about writing because I’m not quite sure how to form words these days. Writing about writing because I don’t have any complaints. Writing and wishing I had read more of that book on writing because then, at least, I could be writing about something relevant and significant–meaningful.
Writing to the tune of background sounds. Writing at a pace that matches the taps of my fingers to the beats per minute of the song in my ears. Writing and hoping some level of harmony or catharsis will be achieved. Writing like it’s one of those nights when we had to ‘dance it out’.
Writing to get over the fear of writing. Writing get shake off the dried mud of rejection. Writing and wondering why the hell I even write if no one cares to hear what I have to say. Writing and feeling hopeless, insignificant. Writing because my girlfriend says I should keep going even when I don’t want to. Writing because I love her.
Writing for inertia. Writing to begin momentum. Writing to pull me out of a slump.
Writing despite the notion that I generally dislike when writers write about writing, but not only can I appreciate the irony, but now I really understand.
Writing and noticing that the timer went off, but I want to continue. Writing and realizing that even writing about writing is a piece of writing. Writing and conceding that all of the writers to wrote about forcing themselves to write were probably right.