sherry171

Canada

Has a new existential crisis every day and yeets it out through word vomit.

Community ambassador alum [summer 2020]

Message from Writer

Moist. Moist. Moist. (sorry not sorry) ;)

https://theconversation.com/coronavirus-why-were-using-llamas-to-help-fight-the-pandemic-139070

The Writer's Paradox

August 3, 2020


The journey commences.
 
I rise from my mental palace at the crack of 2:00 AM. Unsheathing the tinted laptop from their soft-shell case. Wiping down the smudged and chiseled keys. Downing a mug of coffee, and pressing the “New Google Docs” icon with all the force I can muster.
 
Today will be the day. My heart pounds as I mentally chant those five words, waiting for the page to load. Today will be the day. Today-will-be-the-day-I-finish-this-Write-the-World-prompt!
 
I examine my spiral-bound notebook, mapping out the scribbled musings of my past self, wringing her brain for new ideas. Hmm… philosophical gibberish... sudden twists… psychologically distressed caricatures? The creation of a dystopia from the latest news article or scientific discovery? The breathing of life, consciousness, and a heartbeat into any nonhuman being, for novelty’s sake? Every four lines or so, I see a “lightning thought” - one of those ideas that struck me under the covers, begging to be written down, but made zero sense after I’d reread it in the morning.
 
The letters hum softly beneath my touch, waiting to burst off the page.
The first line is always the hardest.
 
“It was the best day of her life-”
Cliche city!
 
“The sky was cold and bleak-”
For heaven’s sake, don’t start a story with the weather!
 
“Once upon a time-”
ARE YOU FIVE YEARS OLD?
 
A bead of sweat forms each time my fingers dance across the keys, then make a beeline for the backspace. The blank, blinking screen taunts me, sending guilt rippling each time I dare look away, each time the nearest notification or internet black hole consumes my attention.
 
Put down something. Anything! Come on, you’ve spent the last three days binging Brooklyn Nine Nine, you’ve gotta have the time for this. Am we gonna have to resort to thesaurus.com? Or use those “random prompt generators” about finding something magical in the woods or reuniting with a long-lost relative?
 
Deep breath.
Hey — word vomit first. Focus on throwing out whatever you can, then worry about the quality.
The more I fill the page, the faster I travel. I gain a little bit more confidence. The trek becomes less of a chore and more of a fun spring cleaning. I mean, I still reward myself with the occasional snack, half-hour YouTube video, or nature walk after every ten words — you know, just to keep my mind loose.
 
And then the ending. The surprise villain at the one or fifty-hour mark, who pops out with their taunting grin, right as the writer thinks they’ve fled to safety-
How on Jupiter’s Moons do I conclude this hodgepodge of ideas?
All the worst closures I’ve witnessed from books, films, and TV shows flash before me as a spiritual warning. At this point, I do anything to avoid the finale. I word and reword for hours on end, cutting down dialogue and rambly sentences. I even pull open the wise old wizard of Grammarly and pray He will catch the mistakes I forget to scan.
 
Miraculously — I conquer the last phrase. Grasping the last of my endurance, knowing that the piece is merely a fraction of its full potential, I hit the “Publish” button and collapse into a twelve-hour writer’s coma.
 
The journey never seems to end. And maybe that’s what keeps me crawling back.
 

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  • August 3, 2020 - 8:18am (Now Viewing)

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