Day 1: 365 Days of Writing Prompts
Added 2017-03-08 22:10:14 +0000 UTCWriter’s Block.
I’ve been trying to write this since 7am. It’s now 2pm. My writer’s block manifests as procrastination quite a lot. I’ll trick myself into thinking I’m “busy” but I’m really just afraid to sit down and see what truth my fingers have to reveal to me today. My wall is made of sound. The sound of a thousand people telling me, “Don’t you know how hard it is to make a living as a writer? Better not quit your day job.” The sound of my mother asking me, “What happens if you don’t ‘make it’?” The sound of my own brain telling me I’m a fraud, a phony, an imposter. If you’re supposed to “fake it ‘til you make it” at what point do you stop faking it and start making it? Is there really any difference? Or is the only difference the amount of money you are now making from faking. I’m not really sure if I have an answer but I know that these philosophical mental gymnastics run around and around and around in my mind, doing their fancy routines. That particular routine is a perfect 10; circular logic, self-defeating thoughts that only trigger my deepest doubts. And with that—my five minutes are up.
Comments
Oh! just saw your email. What a fantastic idea! and yes, I'm down to give it a try also. I remember seeing a book at the Museum of Modern Art gift shop recently about writing prompts, and I almost bought it, and then I saw in my head it ending up on my dusty shelf, and me really looking at it for the first time packing boxes, and regretting putting another unread book in the "Throw/Give Away" stack. That said, thanks for inviting us to join along. Here's my 5 min response. Enjoy!! It’s dark, I’m not at my home. In front of me is a fireplace blocked by a chair. The chair has something that looks like a towel folded neatly on it. On top of that might be another towel but I’m not quite sure. It’s a strange darkness. I’m sitting next to a lamp and it feels bright but behind these glasses is a glare that gives me a feeling of peering into a netherworld when I look across the carpeted room. The painting above it makes no sense at all. It’s of a large bowl and is decorated with geometric shapes. The frame that borders It is thick and has a black outer rim with a gold finished boundary inside. I’m just noticing now there is glass over the painting, I can see the reflection of the ceiling fan in it, which is also very decorated. It’s some kind of milky stained glass. I never noticed before. How could a room so exquisite be so dim? It’s like a somber palace.
Austin Baltes
2017-03-09 07:06:06 +0000 UTC
