02 May 2012
2 i'm supposed to be writing the jackie paper for paris
because i'm presenting the jackie paper in paris in 30 days and all i've got currently is a hodge-podge of quotes and unjustifiable conclusions and that mess needs to be in some shape by thursday so it can be reviewed in the naked lady bar.
there's this part of writing that writers never talk about. the part of writing where you're not writing. where you're vacillating between the belief that you're gathering the words you want to write and the fear that you have none.
we should talk about that more. because the bulk of the time spent writing is spent in that space.
in a piece that has been NLBed but which may or may not exist in some form on the internet, sensei has written about the space that precedes entry into the japanese embassy. the room with no country that separates the foreign embassy from american soil.
within the process of writing, there's a similar space. there's an inclination to dash through it, because it's daunting. it's far easier to feel a writer when you've the words. but maybe we're wrong not to linger. not to claim it. maybe we should, however briefly, own the inarticulacy. and revel in the freedom of not quite knowing what's just beyond the door.
filed under: writing in the city