Tuesday, May 16, 2006


I wrote this little thingy in my notebook some time ago, I'm not at all sure when. I'm now going to reproduce it here. Enjoy!

When you start writing, you commit yourself to something. As soon as your pen touches the page, an inherent responsiblity makes itself immediately apparent. You have an obligation to the mark that the pen point has made to extend upon it and make it into something worthwhile. The mark must be elaborated upon until it forms itself into a letter. But once you have a letter, the situation becomes far more complex.

This letter surely expects further of its brethen to follow, thereby resulting in a word. God help you if you have a word because now what else can come but more words, sprinkled with punctuation throughout, climaxing in a sentence?

Now that you've hit the sentence mark, of course everyone expects a paragraph out of you. One paragraph begs for more pargraphs and now you're into page territory. At this point, you're ankle deep in a story and not you, nor the page, nor anyone else will be satisfied until this thing has been seen through to the end.

This is why an overwhelming sense of trepidation floods through me whenever I position my pen over a sheet of paper. In effect, it's a fear of commitment and all of the effort and thought that is part and parcel for such a responsiblity.

This can all be avoided, however, by simply electing to write poetry.


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