Step One: Underpants
May. 21st, 2013 09:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feldmanWhile I know the answer is to write, to simply keep priming the pump until things start to flow again, there's a deep reticence to get started.
Once I start it's like riding a bike--in that it constantly feels like when I first learned to ride a bike, precariously balanced, lurching between too fast and not fast enough, and the only thing keeping me from a wide swath of gravel ground into my skin is sheer dumb fucking luck.
So I aim for a patch of grass and ditch it. And then I don't write for a couple weeks.
Which would be okay, as a life, if I didn't have this upwelling of pressure, these images and thoughts and all the jenk and churning seafoam that I know comes out as stories when the pipes are flowing. When they aren't thunking and juddering and spitting, full of air and rusty backflow.
I need Burgess Meredith to come kick my ass and make me drink the goddamned raw eggs already.
Once I start it's like riding a bike--in that it constantly feels like when I first learned to ride a bike, precariously balanced, lurching between too fast and not fast enough, and the only thing keeping me from a wide swath of gravel ground into my skin is sheer dumb fucking luck.
So I aim for a patch of grass and ditch it. And then I don't write for a couple weeks.
Which would be okay, as a life, if I didn't have this upwelling of pressure, these images and thoughts and all the jenk and churning seafoam that I know comes out as stories when the pipes are flowing. When they aren't thunking and juddering and spitting, full of air and rusty backflow.
I need Burgess Meredith to come kick my ass and make me drink the goddamned raw eggs already.
