When I was in college, I had a professor that made us freewrite for fifteen minutes every class. We had to keep going no matter what, and if we couldn’t think of anything to write at all, we had to write the words, “Nothing, nothing, nothing.” It was fun. I always looked forward to it because at the next class he took pieces from everyone’s writing, every bit that he thought was strong or used a certain stylistic scheme, and compiled them on this sheet called The Beauties.
It was a great way to encourage people who maybe didn’t see themselves as good writers. Everyone wrote beauties. Stream of conscious writing evoked them. You didn’t have time to be hung up on what you were writing. There was none. None at all.
It makes me want to start freewriting again. I get hung up quite frequently, though I’m not entirely sure why. I thought I was past general writing hangups, but as I look at my writing now, I know there is always room for improvement.
I’m almost through with this horrible cold. The worst is over, thank goodness. The sore throat bit is always the most painful part. I don’t mind the runny nose and hacking very much. At least those two things are a lot more tolerable. Heh, let’s see what sort of tune I’m singing tomorrow.
I finally have shipping rates for my zine, both for domestic and international orders. I will post a link to buy very soon. If you will be at the Northwest Indiana Tweetup next week, at that brewery in Hobart, I will be bringing free copies along.
Still recovering from sickness. Who would have thought that a cold could incapacitate you so much?
Role playing definitely helped… though it didn’t help my sleeping schedule any. I was out late and woke up later than I should have this morning, but you know what? I really don’t care. I have to get over the fact that life is not supposed to be scheduled in a little black book I bought at Office Max. It’s malleable. It shifts and moves. As long as I’m doing work and as long as I’m happy with the work I’m putting out, that is ultimately what should matter.
Before arriving at Liz’s house (because I was insanely early) I made a stop in the parking lot of some church and texted some people I haven’t texted in a long while. One was a girl from high school. Quite frankly, I’m still amazed that I have her phone number in my phone because I haven’t spoken to her in years. The last time I saw her was before I graduated college, and that in itself was five years ago.
It’s nice to receive random texts. You should try it sometime. I guarantee you will like it.
The following is from the paper journal I started today. Updates here on out will most likely be transcribed from that journal. I don’t know why… but I find it easier to write on paper. The computer screen is just too blinding!
After reading my old journals, the ones that spanned from 1998 to 2006, it made me consider journaling once more. Even though my younger writing was tinged with immaturity, it holds a… spark. A certain spark that my writing now seems to lack. I don’t know what’s missing from the equation now. Is it because I’m not depressed? Is it because I’m not riddled with self-loathing? Is it because I’m no longer dependent on Jacky? What? What changed?
I had an awkward grasp on language when I was 19, but it’s this awkward grasp that made my writing so interesting. I just let the words flow without much thought. I most definitely did not self-censor. I guess when you become an adult that’s one of the first lessons you learn: watch what you say and how you present yourself to others, lest you fall down, down, down.
I watch what I say too often. I do nothing about it.
I want to regress a little, let my feelings and raw emotions dictate my writing. I can always go back and edit if need be. What’s stopping me?
Purchase My Zine!
Details on how to purchase are coming soon. Stay tuned as I figure out postage for domestic and international orders. :)
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