When cavemen wrote on walls, do you think that they ever said to themselves “fuck that’s not right” and tried to scratch it out or just switched walls, or was it another medium before the wall. Did they use dirt, mud or animal parts? Did they just have a frat-boy last minute essay night and looked at it, seen it made no sense, said “fuck it” and rolled with it?
If it was anything other than the latter, they are geniuses. I say that because I am banging my head against the wall, only to fight the urge of throw my laptop out the damn window, which would be meaningless. besides, I just fixed my screen; totally unrelated incident. The messed up part is that it’s not because I’m having “writer’s block” its because I am indecisive in my writing and that very nature is causing me to look for perfection in a imperfect process. Drafts are meant to give the writer a chance to remove the mental clutter and self correct. Well that’s what my old English Comp instructor told my back, as I furiously repeated the process of balling up paper and throwing them at the trash can.
So, recalling on that bit of information from Mr. Quirk, I am stepping away from the laptop that I’m sure is resentful or depressed from the litany of curses and swears aimed at it. I hope it understands that the anger was misplaced. I am instead going to comeback and write everything that comes to my mind. Let’s see how a confusing draft with six endings workout. Well in a world with Micheal Bay and M Night Shyamalan all is possible. Whatever I write I am going to stick with until my next draft. There’s the challenge. I’ll let you know how it works out.