*insert epic faceplant on the bytes of cyberspace*
Why can I not have the capability of putting my thoughts on paper? Well, I suppose I am doing something to that degree at the current moment. It's just that when I go to capture dialogue or description of a setting, I cannot :/ my brain jerks to a halt and refuses to let me. Woe is me.
I'm not even close to the suggestion captured by the image. I don't have hundreds of scraps of paper floating around my room. All I have are a few stick-it notes on my bare looking wall. One states that love conquers everything, another bemoans the fact that love is a difficult thing, the third is some scribbles from a twilight-moment dream, and the last two are conversations/snippets of what was running through my mind (with regards to characters). That is all.
Doesn't really help that everything on the entire planet is annoying me right now :/
Aah, but it does feel wonderous to vent it all out -- to throw away the drab, useless thoughts and make way for, hopefully, more useful ones.
I was briefly skimming through Abigail Hartman's blog, Scribbles and Ink Stains, and ran across her post All Your Might. I found it quite inspiring. She brings up Ecclesiastes 9:10 and then discusses the honour of doing something with all of one's might.
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.Quite a drab verse. In fact, all of Ecclesiastes is forlorn and semi-depressing, which is why I prolong reading it until I'm absolutely certain I can handle it's truths. At the current moment (in which I should be outside, toiling underneath the unbearably hot glare of the sun) I feel as though this verse pertains quite well to my endeavours in writing. Of course, life is also the other answer (perhaps the more important one?) but I shall refrain from discussing that at the moment.
My hands find a pen or a pencil...they reach to the paper, smooth the soft skin out over a table. My mind searches its depths, longing to tell the story I hold before I pass into that nether-world, that realm of the dead. Why is it then, that my mind chokes every time I go to write? Perhaps I am not doing what I desire...with all my might.
Might (noun): Great and impressive power or strengthYes, I am definitely not using all my might with regards to writing. I dally. The question is, will I be brave enough to fix how I err, now that I've confronted myself? Shall I tear down my heart's door and force my mind to bring forth a tale or shall I continue to wait until it longs to flow from my soul?
Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore. -- Andre Gide
Signed with nocturnal breathe,