One would think, having written three books, over 700 movie reviews, and writing two blogs three times each per week, that I would look forward to writing each day. But I don’t. I hate the thought of sitting down to write. I would rather dilly-dally, putter around, find ways to avoid writing. I am at heart lazy and undisciplined, a rebellious saboteur of myself with an unsocial attitude toward social media. Writing is a pain in the fingertips hovering over the keyboard.
In the beginning was the Word. So it is written. But in the beginning the word is hard to write. Each and every sentence needs to be rewritten, edited; a change of a word or a phrase, to more accurately reflect the thought in my cluttered mind. But the more I write the better I feel about writing, not that I enjoy trying to find the right word or the right phrase. It would be more fun, less work, if the words flowed from my keyboard with perfect clarity, but they don’t.
Someone once said, “How do I know what I think until I start writing.” I understand the feeling. On more than one occasion I have seen a movie I liked, came home to write the review, only to discover while writing I didn’t like the movie after all. It is a strange experience. Putting your thoughts in words does not change your mind so much as clarify what you really think. Getting a few paragraphs into the review of the movie I thought I liked, my analysis crystalized into an unexpected form.
Magic happens when words form sentences, creating order out of chaos. Writing is transforming. At the heart of the matter writing is really nothing more than communication and if you are an idiosyncratic, neurotic, social hermit such as yours truly, it is a platform of expression, a way to free my cluttered mind.
When you are finally finished with what you have written you feel much better than when you started. So if you need therapy like me, start typing away.