I’m listening to “Everybody Wants to Rule The World” by Tears for Fear, but that just finished and Todd Rundgren begins singing “Change Myself.”  That’s a better song for my mood, and it’s a nice transition from Tears from Fear because Todd sings,

I want to change the world
I want to make it well
How can I change the world
When I can’t change myself
Try again tomorrow

But then I go back to Tears for Fear and listen to,

It’s my own design
It’s my own remorse
Help me to decide
Help me make the most
Of freedom and of pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever

Every day I wake up knowing what I want to do.  I have been struggling for months to work on a short story that I have tried off and on for years to finish writing.  I tell myself that’s the one thing in life that I want to complete, yet I can’t, no matter how I apply myself.  I guess it’s writer’s block, but since I’m not a real writer I think it’s something else.  I can write essays until the all the bovines get back to the barn, but writing fiction is like pushing the molecules of my body through a concrete block.

This leaves me in a state of continual restlessness that I can only fight by occupying my mind with other diversions, such as watching “The Big Bang Theory” or flipping through my 18k of mp3 songs looking for mental stimulation.  My restless is often soothed by words, such as Bob Dylan’s,

You will search, babe,
At any cost.
But how long, babe,
Can you search for what is not lost?
Everybody will help you,
Some people are very kind.
But if I,
Can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I’ll keep it with mine.

I can’t help it
If you might think I am odd,
If I say I’m loving you not for what you are
But what you’re not.
Everybody will help you
Discover what you set out to find.
But if I can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I’ll keep it with mine.

The train leaves
At half past ten,
But it will be back
In the same old spot again
The conductor
He’s still stuck on the line
And if I, can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I’ll keep it with mine.

Every evening I am back at this word processor at half past ten.  When I can’t paint my own words I stare at words others wrote.  I should give up and shoot up some TV.  I’m so restless that it eats away at me, but writing about it doesn’t really help.  I wish I was a machine so I could program myself to do exactly what I want.

JWH 11-3-8

2 thoughts on “Restless”

  1. Doesn’t it just rot your socks when this happens. When you know you have the skill and the imagination but you can’t get them to gel. I have days, weeks when I can’t even bring myself to open the document because I know I won’t write a word.

    I don’t know what the answer is Jim except, one day, just do it. Even if all you write is gibberish, you’ll break through one brick wall to get there. The next day the next brick wall will come down more easily. Getting that first day happening takes a lot of emotional energy, though.

    Good luck.

  2. Sometimes I get stuck because the editor in my brain is stronger than the creator is, so I find myself hung up on improving every sentence in a first draft when, in fact, the creator should have totally, unrestrained control. If I can get the words flowing without thinking too much, I can write. Otherwise, it is extremely difficult because I cannot get into any kind of a flow when I’m pre-occupied with perfecting as a go along.

    So my advice to you is forget about editing, constructing, plotting, characterization, everything during the first draft and let the creator loose. Everything else can be dealt with in later drafts.


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