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I’m like the inchworm that climbs to the tip of a blade of grass, and then waves about in a panic, near to losing its fragile hold, tiny head seeking the next blade of grass. That’s me, wailing and waving about, clinging to my blade of grass, all the while I’m in a sea of grass, and soon enough my tiny head bumps into one, thus it goes with the writing of latest post in blog, I’m at para 2, clinging, frantic, and blind.
Where are my words? Why aren’t they golden? Silver? Brass? Why are they clay? But clay can be shaped, baked, glazed and painted. Clay can have strength and symmetry and tell a story as subtle as light. I know that certain posts require several rewrites. I can feel it in the voiceless words that are not good enough, in the words that ought to be said, the words that wait to be written, but are still lost in the silence of thought.
I like to get the words right the first time. In selecting words to create narrative,”…every word is on trial for its life.” to quote again. I always think of the words I’m writing when I’m writing, of choosing the right word to convey what I want to say, what the story demands. That demand may not always be obvious at the beginning, but as I read it over and over, I see…something, and the thinking and the selecting begins afresh. I cannot write without paying close attention to the words from the moment the first letter of the first word appears at the first tap on the key.
So the brain yelled at me this morning. Get back to the writing instead of so much thinking! Enough with the thinking! The thinking is fine; the writing’s how you get the post done! So write already!
Sheesh!
My theme occurred to me as I scribbled the last of the thinking: Life is uncertain and you must give it the best meaning you can.
The brain is giggling in anticipation.
I will make you scream "Mummy Mummy"
5 Jul 2008
My words...
I’m like the inchworm that climbs to the tip of a blade of grass, and then waves about in a panic, near to losing its fragile hold, tiny head seeking the next blade of grass. That’s me, wailing and waving about, clinging to my blade of grass, all the while I’m in a sea of grass, and soon enough my tiny head bumps into one, thus it goes with the writing of latest post in blog, I’m at para 2, clinging, frantic, and blind.
Where are my words? Why aren’t they golden? Silver? Brass? Why are they clay? But clay can be shaped, baked, glazed and painted. Clay can have strength and symmetry and tell a story as subtle as light. I know that certain posts require several rewrites. I can feel it in the voiceless words that are not good enough, in the words that ought to be said, the words that wait to be written, but are still lost in the silence of thought.
I like to get the words right the first time. In selecting words to create narrative,”…every word is on trial for its life.” to quote again. I always think of the words I’m writing when I’m writing, of choosing the right word to convey what I want to say, what the story demands. That demand may not always be obvious at the beginning, but as I read it over and over, I see…something, and the thinking and the selecting begins afresh. I cannot write without paying close attention to the words from the moment the first letter of the first word appears at the first tap on the key.
So the brain yelled at me this morning. Get back to the writing instead of so much thinking! Enough with the thinking! The thinking is fine; the writing’s how you get the post done! So write already!
Sheesh!
My theme occurred to me as I scribbled the last of the thinking: Life is uncertain and you must give it the best meaning you can.
The brain is giggling in anticipation.
5 comments:
Wow... too good...
I dont rather cant write as you do.. but everytime I do read your blog it wields my imagination.. and gives me a new concept and style to think... thanx for that.
keep up the good work
Regards,
Ravikiran K Murthy
Thoughts seem to originate in y(our) mind but the source lies somewhere else. My analogy is that our minds are like Radios that receives from a Radio-Station and converts the radio-waves to sound. So, don't stress yourself to produce a thought which you only have to receive and convert to something. But I would suggest you to tune your frequency to a appropriate Radio-Station. That you can do by changing the present situation/time/mood. I wonder which frequency I tuned to to come up with such Philosophical Comment. Keep Tuning! Keep Writing!!
Seriously I am not able to understand This Thames from last 2 blogs keep it simple and so that lame man like me also can read :)
I am just telling that I am not able to write and you say thames?
heeee :) the brain is giggling in anticipation?\wowieeeee..\
i can almost see ya swinging from one grass blade to another, literally bellowing like tarzan all the way :)
ya remind of the adventures of "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids:
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