when the summer calls, drags you for miles
somewhere down the line i think i've gotten too afraid to write. i filled my life with other things and mostly felt like i could do without. i miss it, but i know i don't posses any great talent to write a fantastic book. and i don't think i'd want to write a book that isn't fantastic - if nothing else, at least in my eyes. i think i could write a book, but i don't feel like i have anything to say. maybe i can string the words together, make it sound okay, but i'm not smart enough to make it into a cohesive narrative.
i know there are plenty of bad books out there - or books i consider bad - that become bestsellers, but i don't want to become one of them. i don't want my name on the cover of a book you can easily poke holes in and laugh at for the bad writing or terrible storyline. i want to write a book that adds something to the world, not one that edges its way in and is just there to fill up space, or fill up something. because those terrible bestsellers become bestsellers because it provides something people need, i suppose. enjoyment, inspiration, laughter, whatever. something. so maybe there's some thing to say for them. nonetheless.
maybe i've gotten too afraid. maybe i got too displeased with myself or maybe i got too lazy to put the work in. maybe i set the bar too high and now shrink away from it. maybe i just don't need it, maybe it won't matter. whichever one it is, whenever i read something magnificent or see something about writers, i want. and i miss. and i crawl into a corner to scribble some words on paper or quickly type some words in notepad. nothing that means anything and no particularly pretty words or sentences, so it doesn't help much. but it's something.
i know there are plenty of bad books out there - or books i consider bad - that become bestsellers, but i don't want to become one of them. i don't want my name on the cover of a book you can easily poke holes in and laugh at for the bad writing or terrible storyline. i want to write a book that adds something to the world, not one that edges its way in and is just there to fill up space, or fill up something. because those terrible bestsellers become bestsellers because it provides something people need, i suppose. enjoyment, inspiration, laughter, whatever. something. so maybe there's some thing to say for them. nonetheless.
maybe i've gotten too afraid. maybe i got too displeased with myself or maybe i got too lazy to put the work in. maybe i set the bar too high and now shrink away from it. maybe i just don't need it, maybe it won't matter. whichever one it is, whenever i read something magnificent or see something about writers, i want. and i miss. and i crawl into a corner to scribble some words on paper or quickly type some words in notepad. nothing that means anything and no particularly pretty words or sentences, so it doesn't help much. but it's something.