Friday, March 11, 2005

Jagged Edge

Tapping keys, tapping keys, tapping keys.

Forcing myself to write this morning. Two reasons: I’m absolutely blocked on a film review I have to write, and I keep coming up dry, so this might help to kick something loose and get the words flowing. At the moment, I got nothing.

Also, this frantic tapping of keys is stopping me from chewing on my nails. I’m getting dangerously close to ending up with gnarled, bleeding stumps.

For some reason, I’ve felt very edgy and restless all week, and I’m having trouble working out why that is. I’ve had this feeling that I need to fit as much as possible into my spare moments recently, and it’s leaving me slightly crazed and frantic. I’m depriving myself of caffeine to keep myself level, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

This week alone, I’ve polished off a freelance research project, which should see a nice and unexpected bit of extra cash trickle into the AKA coffers, and I’ve been tinkering with all sorts of other things. I’ve also determined that I should push myself harder, out of my “comfort zone”. (Gah, I hate that phrase, but I can’t think of a usable alternative.)

In some ways, it is far too easy for me to keep writing away in my well-worn niche, churning out film review after film review. So, I’m banging my head against the screen trying to make myself try new and different things. It’s a challenge (which is always a good thing). Writers who only write, end up writing only about writing. And that’s not good enough.

Trying too hard to do too much. Take a deep breath. Lie down. Breath deeply.

None of that shit works. My brain still keeps spinning in a thousand directions, stray thoughts floating just beyond my grasp. Trying to focus on everything, and I can’t clearly see anything.

In some ways, this blog is one endless, sprawling Work In Progress. As much as it is a Journal, cataloguing the minutiae of my life, the sickness in my head and the madness unfurling in front of my eyes, it is also a peephole into the churning mind of a writer: a struggling, procrastinating, prolific, amateur, professional, successful, failing, lazy, hard-working writer. I never know from one day to the next what kind of writer I am going to be on any given day.

I know this is a common refrain heard in offices the world over on a daily basis, but I Really Really Need a Holiday. After all, a rest is as good as a change.

And I need the Rest. And the Change.

Nope, writing all this out didn’t help. Still feel like biting down hard on my knuckles to choke down a scream of frustration. And I’m still as dry as an alcoholic in a Smoothie Bar.

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