All These Words in Random Places

Once again, I find myself contemplating my "serial writing" practice... or, rather, my lack of a practice.

I have often said-- and I suppose it has become a personal philosophy of sorts-- that the secret to becoming and being a writer is simply "to write." And that's not really a secret, or is it any kind of magic potion... "it" all begins with us sitting down and churning out words.

What I mean by that is that a lot of people talk and plan and think about doing what they want to be doing but fail to actually DO any of the doing of what they are planning, thinking and talking about doing.

A few years ago, I decided to combat my own laziness and general lack of motivation by taking at least minimal (but often more) notes every time I had an idea or thought that seemed "writing worthy." I don't know that it has served to increase the volume of my writing by a whole lot-- I still struggle to complete articles on a regular basis-- but at least it has kept me in a more creative frame of mind.

And I have built an impressive collection of hand written notes...

Of course, it happened again today... where a comment left on a Facebook post got extended into a short blog post about writing, which in turn got transmuted into a different-- and much longer-- blog post about my struggle with ADHD.

I look at my reams of tiny scribbled pieces of paper, and can only hope that some day they might turn themselves into something... meanwhile, I will continue to place "random words" in random places...

Desert Ponderings

I decided to take a bunch of my "loose notes" with me to Joshua Tree, as I figured I would be spending a good bit of time by myself while Sarah was spending time taking care of her mom.

These were the thousands of loose scraps of paper onto which I have scribbled ideas, over the years, in the hope of "eventually turning them into a useful article or blog post."

Maybe it's profoundly self-involved of me to think that all these fleeting ideas are actually "good enough" to become a worthy piece of writing. As I am revisiting them now, many of them seem rather nonsensical... and it makes me wonder whether I am just wasting a bunch of time by trying to "capture" ideas when they happen, because I harbor hopes of "saving them" for some time when I actually have the time to turn them into "something."

I am, in so many ways, a "frustrated writer." Mostly, I am frustrated because I have to spend all my daily energy on making a living, and it leaves no time over for writing... and I can't afford to simply say "today I am going to write!" because doing so is likely going to result in the electricity being cut off.

Which would suck.

It makes me sad that "creative types" are typically "underemployed," from a financial compensation perspective.

At age 54, I have never been employed at anything that allowed me any more than to merely "scrape by." Which sounds kind of stupid, because I have a college degree (with high honors, no less) in Finance that I have never used for anything. But the financial field never held any appeal... I merely completed the degree to satisfy parental and family pressures.

Sometimes this whole dilemma makes me sit and ponder what we "value" in society, and how rarely those things that "pay well" are in creative fields... and how (sadly) often they are in fields that involve destruction and deception. That doesn't speak very highly of us, as human beings.

Anyway, here I am, trying to sort all these pieces of paper with "great ideas" sketched on them-- and i feel very overwhelmed.