Something I learned about writing today: it is like an infected sore

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“When you stop  [writing] you are as empty, and at the same time never empty but filling, as when you have made love to someone you love.” – Ernest Hemingway (sourced from Brain Pickings)

Someone once complimented me on my writing discipline. They were wrong.

Thing is I don’t write because I am ultra strict when it comes to finger exercise, or even extra-ordinarily rule bound about how much time I spend with my computer every day—I write to relieve the pressure generated from the ideas niggling and gnawing and generally misbehaving in my head (especially when I’m driving and really need to be focusing damnit!). And because afterwards, as Hemingway so spectacularly describes, I am left with a lovely feeling of peace and emptiness.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

And of course, I do hope, that in the process, something good comes of it all, but in the meantime it is really just about survival.

Others?

2 thoughts on “Something I learned about writing today: it is like an infected sore

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