The Struggle is Real: The insecure narcassism of a writer

You wake up one day, any day, the day doesn’t matter, but what matters is: First, you wake up. Thank God.   Second, you realize there is a day to be had.  Lastly, you fucking crush it.

How do you crush it?  You set the goal:  “Today I’m going to write 20 pages of original material.”  And what do you do?  You write 28.

Aside:  Do you ever hit the number key pad on your computer just to find out the it’s not  “activated” and think to yourself that you didn’t do anything to deactivate it.  All I know now is I hit the number 8 and I’m two pages up.  Another aside: I somehow just jumped to the print screen in the middle of all of this!.

Now you wake up the next day, or even two days after and realize that: First, I woke up.  Thank God. Second, there is another day to be had. Lastly, you fucking blow it.

How do you blow it?  You set the goal: “I’m going to rewrite a script you started 6 months ago.” And what do you do? Realize that the story you just wrote for the past 5 days completely deviated off the course you originally embarked on.

It would be one thing if the story were, 50,60 pages.  But in this case, double that and add 25.

What do we do? Do we sit here and go:

“FUCK!!!!” And then break our computer out of infantile over-reaction?

Thought crossed my mind…twice.

Or do we remember that we are a grown adult (insert short joke here) that has handled circumstances greater than this on a regular basis?

What we accidentally, unknowingly,  yet magnificently done is give ourselves a chance to do things over.

A beautiful aspect to human behavior is how we look at our failure, figure out what we did wrong,  and then do it again. Then, when we fail at it again, we look at our failure, figure out what we did wrong, and then do it again.

And little do you realize while you’re doing that, you’re in the midst of learning how to master it AND the nerves that are telling you to perform, they develop a white, milky substance, is, you guessed it, it’s cum.

Dumbass.

It’s called myelin.  What is myelin?  Myelin is a mixture of proteins and fibers that form a white sheeth insulating nerve fibers which increases the speed at which the impulses are conducted.

Laymens terms:  It makes you a master of that particular skill and doesn’t go away!

There is a book called the “Talent Code: Unlocking the Secret of Skill” by Daniel Coyle.  Where they research and study why soccer players in Brazil are superior to other segments of the world.  In particular the U.S.  I added the last part. It has nothing to do with their dominance over this country.  Truthfully, I fucking hate soccer.  However, we make fun of the rest of the world for referring to a sport that you’re only allowed to use your feet as football.

Meanwhile, in our version of “football”, we make fun of the only people that kick the ball.

And we wonder how this happened:

trump

The book also looks into certain regions of this country that produce musicians.  Why did the a segment of Italy produce these masterminds in art and invention centuries ago?

Moral of this blog is, I started writing, this particular one you are reading right now, because I was stuck.  The actual event took place last night where I was troubled by the prospect of having to totally rewrite the script I started.  Like I was going to sit down and read thinking:

“OH MY GOD! It’s beautiful!  I don’t have to touch a thing!  Just pay me $10 Million (How the fuck did my number pad get deactivated?!?), and give me my Oscar now!”

This is going to be work,  a lot of work.  Writing the rough, rough, rough draft may have been the easy part.  Cleaning this shit up, well, this is what may separate the good from the great, and the outstanding from the exceptional! I don’t know if mylen is created in the mind of a writer. What I do know is:

Writing is getting a little easier.

 

 

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