March 10, 2006 by Allen George
March. March 10.
I don’t know when it happened, perhaps sometime over the last year, but I lost sight of why I wrote. I’ve been partially immobilized ever since; not casting around for topics, but always slightly off-balance.
It can be hard. You know…writing. There are so many factors to consider.
- What am I writing about?
- Do I focus on the content, or the quality of the finished piece?
- Should the piece be written in a single block of time – or spread out over multiple sessions?
Even starting with a title, something so innocuous as a title, feels like a strait-jacket. Everything conforms to it. Naming something, “My Day” for example, immediately limits your focus and every word you write expounds on that theme. A title can be a limiting thing.
Multi-session pieces? Don’t make me laugh! Maybe it’s lack of practice, but I can’t retain an emotion, a state-of-mind over days. Can’t go back and say “Ah! This is what I was feeling”, pick up that thread again and run with it. It’s not a burning “urge to write” that I refer to, no Kafka-esque period in which words flow freely. It’s simply trying to put a handle on an emotion, something so tenuous that you instinctively know that letting go is final.
It can be very hard to accept your limitations.