Writing and Paint

“Writing is simple, Muffy,” says Jeff MacNelly’s Perfesser in the comic strip Shoe. “First, you have to make sure you have plenty of paper. . . sharp pencils. . . typewriter ribbon. Then put your belly up to your desk. . . roll a sheet of paper into the typewriter. . . and stare at it until beads of blood appear on your forehead.”

 

So I've been sitting in front of the screen at my office, dog on a chair beside me, trying to restart my memoir.  But I can't get a handle on it right now.  Who cares?  What makes it interesting?  What do I even want to say? 

There are the sexual adventures which might be fun to read about but as a professed Christian, do I want to celebrate my misdeeds?

And should somebody who doesn't like being yelled at even attempt a public opening of her mind in our censorious age? Of their mind?

What's there to say about the moment that College Hunks Hauling Junk came to whisk away Will's rocking chair, the chair I bought him in Pocatello from a young man I later met up with in San Francisco for one night when I seduced him out of his Mormon garments?

What's there to say about his silences when I tried to negotiate our relationship openly and honestly and he would either turn away from me and remain silent or say, "Let's talk about that some other time," a time which never came?

He never explained to me why he thought an 18 year old who would follow a 41 year old home (two blocks) from a party and have sex with him (after two meetings) and who said she believed in free love would be faithful after that.

When did I start feeling sad about my lack of faithfulness?  Was it near to the time I stopped feeling angry about his inability to understand a female body?

What he angry at or proud of my affair with the New Yorker writer?  Both?  Neither?

Was he sad about or excited about being married to a confessional poet?  Both?  Neither?

And what about the fucking Almighty?  Clearly, QED, It wanted me to take care of Will.  But what the fuck does It want with me now?

Whatever It wants, over the next two days I'm going to paint two walls in the other upstairs bedroom Heritage Red.

 

Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.

Source: https://quotepark.com/quotes/1851005-gene-fowler-writing-is-easy-all-you-do-is-stare-at-a-blank-sh/

„Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.“

Source: https://quotepark.com/quotes/1851005-gene-fowler-writing-is-easy-all-you-do-is-stare-at-a-blank-sh/