The Dance I Do

Over the past few days (read: immeasurable span of time) I have been conducting a trying and persistent conversation (read: exhaustively fruitless argument) with myself. It generally plays out something like this:

- I want to write a book.

- So write a book.

(Pause; sigh.)

- I don't have anything to write about.

- Oh, come on.

- No, seriously. No ideas. Zilch.

- What about-

- I knew you'd bring that up. You know I have no idea where to go with that one.

(Sigh.)

- So write an outline.

- But I don't know what should happen. I even introduced that girl who was "familiar," without knowing who on earth she was! Talk about your stupid rookie mistakes.

- But-

- Look, I told you. I have no ideas.

(Pause; sigh.)

- Write about what you know- and don't tell me you don't know anything! You know about your community, about divorce, about... ahh...

- But I don't want to write a commentary! Every time you write about a community from the inside, it's automatically a commentary on them. You end up judging them and fostering misconceptions... and you can't write how everything is perfect because it's not true and anyway, that wouldn't be much of a book. Speaking of which, it's not like I'm ever going to get published anyway.

- Don't say that...

- It's true! Do you know how many writers there are out there, who not only have ideas, but write outlines and do rewrites and work for years on one manuscript?? I can't... I can't do that kind of thing.

- Because you're lazy.

- Yes! I am. I've never claimed not to be. Even for things I love, I'm lazy. And it takes me like a week to get one computer page... I don't understand how people can write books. I really don't. It's so hard. I just don't have that kind of drive.

- Huhm.

- Oh, you think? And... and and and my writing isn't as good as it used to be.

(Silence.)

- It's, it's clunky now. It won't flow, I can't hit the sentences like I used to. They're so short, and the rhythm is always off...

- You're not a bad writer, you know.

- I know that. Of course I know that. But... but I want to be spectacular. And published. And read.

(Silence.)

- I just don't think I have it. I haven't even been able to keep the blog up. Remember how people used to read it?

- I remember. It was nice.

- It was nice.

(Silence.)

- I... I just don't think I have it anymore.

(Pause.)

- Plus the new Blogger changed my colors back, it's just too bright this way. And everyone has the "Thistleway Rose" whatever it is. I worked so hard getting the colors right last time... I guess that's technology for you.

- Yup.

- Yup. Hey... thanks for letting me talk.

- It's my pleasure. I hope you get published someday, I really do.

- Yeah... so do I.