Tricking Myself

I’m tricking myself into thinking I have to do something. My brain is enveloped with the thoughts of a story I want to write. But I’m not writing it. I’m just thinking about writing it, and talking about writing it, and avoiding writing it, all the while preparing myself to write it. Maybe this is why so many great authors were crazy and drunks. They could feel the words bouncing around inside their soul begging to be let free. Just can’t quite put them down.

The knowledge that the words weren’t the right words is purely haunting at times. This is the kind of thing that causes sleep deprivation. Those nights when the sun rises and someone has put an empty liquor bottle in your hand, empty packs of cigarettes at your feet, and a notebook filled with scribbles in your lap. Expressions of ones soul. Masquerading as today’s personal news.

“Here’s Tom with the weather!”

It’s cloudy and sunny, 96 degrees with no sign of the sun setting. Chance of choice winds bringing odd inspirations coupled with scattered showers of words compiled into sentences, then arranged into “thoughts”…. poems or stories or whichever we please.

“And now a few words from our sponsors!”

I’m tricking myself into thinking I have to write a story the way people would expect a story to be written. Whatever that means. I just need to write. Let the feelings free. Just place them down. Ask the words to politely come out of their hidden hollows and their dark nooks. Coax them out with promises of purpose and freedom. Dangle snacks flavored with opportunities to reach someones lonesome ears.

Let the words fight to escape the confines of my mind.

Time to rally up the troops. Sound the war cry. Fill the weapons with ink. These pages will never know what hit them.

-The Adventures of the Indelible Jack Regal

7/25/16 12:47pm