Maybe it’s Facebook. My desire to write has been compromised by the constant request, “What are you doing now?” And what am I doing now? Usually, not what I should be doing. Usually, I’m telling myself I’ve got the whole week ahead of me to get some writing done. Not that that’s what I say on Facebook. No. On Facebook, like everyone else, I write a one liner that says something, but not too much. It’s harder than it looks and I don’t do it so well. I have “friends”, who are really good at it. Their one-liners are witty and suggest the whole story. I like Facebook, but it’s one more thing I shouldn’t be doing when I could be writing songs or reading a good book, or walking into town, or a doing a thousand other things that would constitute actual life experience.
And writing is the thing that gets neglected the most. Because writing is hard. And avoiding writing is normal. Avoiding writing is part of writing, in fact. But it’s the worst part. It’s the part that makes you feel like a loser, an imposter, a bum.
Actually, I am writing today. Well, if writing is playing a chord progression over and over again on this guitar. I’ve been playing piano more than guitar lately. But the past week or so, I’ve played my little Martin while I watch TV, while I drink my tea in the morning, while I read what everyone else is doing on Facebook.
I think these chords are stolen from somewhere. In fact, I know exactly where they’re stolen from. But eventually, when I tire of playing that other artist’s song (OK, it’s Elliot Smith), I’ll rearrange them, and make a new song out of them. And when I do that, I’ll forget how hard it is to get started sometimes. I’ll have that feeling that comes from getting to the place I go that makes me feel of purpose and life sublime. And I won’t share what I’m doing now, then, because I’ll be too busy writing.