This week I’ve been thinking about consistent writers. I don’t know if they exist because I’m definitely not one of them, but I think they might be real.
I live in a state of extremes- all in or all out is how I like to think of it. I’m either dancing like a Russian ballerina, or I’m sitting on the sidelines drinking a milkshake. It’s cool sometimes because I can be really good at things when I’m all in, but when I’m out, I’m really out.
So I think of this in terms of writing. I’m struck by lightning sometimes with ideas for essays. It happens at weird times a lot like at 4 am with a lot of caffeine, and I totally own that part of it, setting my alarm for 3:30 when necessary. I’m ultra-productive- I’m flying so high by 4:45, I might be delusional, stringing together sentences that to me are absolute genius.
But then,the sun rises. 11 am nears, and the Writer’s block kicks in. I know Writer’s block well, and it sucks. I stare at the same words and read them to myself two hundred times. I try to write sentences; I really want to write, but my sentences are all garbage. Nothing I’m saying is in English, I’m almost sure. So then I’m out. I can’t write, I never want to write again, and I remove myself completely.
I wonder what it’s like to be a consistent writer. I envy those writers if they exist – how they can sit down and write when they have to regardless of the sun’s pose. I think I’m the tortured poet.