writing

Genes

We are so much our parents. They expand beyond our skin, and hair color. They are the tongues that form our words. They are the eyes that see our world. They are the sulci and gyri that interpret thoughts and make decisions. Our parents are in our beds because they are in our heads. Rooted insecurities and desires grow from the seeds planted by our parents long ago. 

We are more of our parents than we will ever admit. Not wanting to make their mistakes, we disown their flaws and claim the traits that mimic their successes–though all of these are only perceived from the viewpoint that was shaped by your parents. Our silence is their silence. Our judgement is their judgement. Our happiness is theirs. And they are their parents, too.

All in some way. 

Habits.

Noses.

Earlobes.

Laughs.

Recipes.

Resentments.

Defenses.

All in some way, many ways, we are so like our parents.

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Impotence

“Writers write”: that is what I tell myself every day because it has been hard to put more than a paragraph into a document. I start, with a concept in mind, and as I continue feelings pour out and the piece goes in a different direction. 

“No, that’s not what this piece is about. Wait, what is this about?”

I push through and tell myself to worry about editing later and just get out the thoughts. This approach works for awhile, until I am interrupted by something, and by the time I get back to writing the feeling just isn’t there anymore. 

Writer’s impotence. Is that a thing?

This is a test, a challenge, to just write. Do not proofread, do not edit. Just write and say what you’re trying to say. Forget contractions and dangling propositions. Fuck grammar for a moment and just spit it out. 

But wait, what was this about again?…

Ignore what’s happening next to you and keep going. Deal with the consequences later. This is important, too. Shit…what was the point of this?! 

Scroll back to the top and look for a reminder. 

Ok, yes. I’m writing about this, this that is happening right this moment and the struggle I’ve had writing. It seems as though I’m not very adept (damn near incapable) of writing anything for myself that isn’t creative catharsis. Ugh…this tone and line of thought is not what I was planning on and I swear I was going somewhere else with this when I started. I just can’t remember where. As soon as I start getting it down, it’s all wet sand that seems to dissolve in between my fingers. Words like particles lost without me knowing they were ever there. The end product is ramblings. 

This is what writing has been like lately. This

No, I did/will not edit or proofread this. 

New science writing blog!

I’m starting a new venture as a freelance science writer, so check out my new blog for a different pace in my writing. 

Today marked the kick-off of my new series, Thursday’s 10 Things, in which I give 10 factoids that you didn’t know you wanted to know. This week’s topic is soil. 

Chenille Writes