Woohoo: writing
As I come closer to completing my degree in English and become more interested in writing in general, writing is becoming the practice. The continuous mountain. The never-ending journey. I find little else as satisfying.
Handing in a completed essay feels fantastic. To have put together all the information from weeks of studying and research, to solve the puzzle of how to include as much info as possible from the semester into one complete package, I get a high.
The place of discovery that is writing also gets me stoned. Poetry specifically, but also prose and essay writing, allow the detachment of oneself from a written piece of work; the writing speaks for itself and can have unpredictable effects on a reader. Writing offers a means to create something new, and an opportunity to escape oneself in the process.
Cocaine? No, thanks. I get my high from the pencil and the pen. I get my dopamine from the keyboard.
Boohoo: getting started
Holy crap, am I ever terrified of starting to write.
I’m terrified of writing research papers, sifting through convoluted scholarly articles, potentially choosing the wrong ones, writing, editing, second-guessing, and nit-picking over every sentence.
I’m terrified of opening myself up to critiques. Especially when writing opinions, I really don’t want to take a hard stance for or against something, to invite a reaction, to potentially have to question my own beliefs.
I’m terrified of potentially having to defend an argument against anyone who might feel more educated (or, God forbid, more passionate) about a subject.
But I have to write like I have to speak. I have to express myself. I can’t live a life of fear, protected by the absence of rebuttals.
And I have to write essays. Because profs say so. But this semester, I’m gonna give myself at least a month to prepare each.
. . . Aaand the semester is over in a week. Well, I don’t really need sleep.
