WHAT'S SO HARD ABOUT WRITING?

I've always enjoyed reading. I pretty much read everything from an early age on. From cereal boxes to adventure stories to biographies and autobiographies, and of course the great political writers of a distant time. Mostly I thought about writing as a talent above my capabilities. It may still be, though I'm not the one to prove it either way. Great writing is a gift to good writers. Good writers are an inspiration to lesser writers. Really bad writers grow up to be Republicans. That is the order of the universe. Order, in this case, means a lineal ranking; not the Republican kind.

It's really easy to write, now that I've tried it and practiced it for a few years. A fellow by the name of Red Smith is remembered for this classic homily, when asked if it was hard to write: "why no, you just sit down at your typewriter and open your veins and bleed". A typewriter, by the way, is a mechanical writing device with no memory. Sort of like Marjory Taylor Greene. Whose veins I'd like to open... and bleed. Now that I have been doing it weekly (writing, not opening MTG's veins) for six months or so, I thought it appropriate to share with you my thoughts.

The initial hours of the unwritten draft consist of thinking what you want to write about. Which remains out of reach. After a few hours you have begun to tense up. " I have writers block", you say. You begin to play solitaire or backgammon, while listening to NPR and political podcasts, hoping something crazy would inspire you to brilliance. I suppose that is like a songwriter noodling the keys of a piano. I would settle for inspiration but I desire to land a little higher. Briiance would be nice. Sometimes it happens, this lightning bolt of brilliance. Sometimes you are happy to get a thousand words that mean something.

Once the piece is written, you settle back and re-read your piece. And again. And again. Each time you find something that needs changed in some small way. Eventually that leads to the question: am I done? Is this baby delivered? And then you find some small thing that needs enhanced, or changed in some way important only to you. Eventually, you become confident that it’s  done. There is sometimes spiking of the ball in writing, but only at a certain point; never the whole essay. When you are finally satisfied that it’s pretty good, then we must ask ourself, is my essay confirmable? Am I confident in my information? Finally, am I too harsh on Republicans, or whomever the subject of my rant might be? In the case of Republicans, there are not enough veins to open. And bleed.

But I am not yet done. I must have my own copy, so I write it again, making edits as I go which I must then change in my completed draft. It is there where I let it go, sending it on its digital journey. With luck there will be a reader.