#write free

[nadyatumbles-blog]

Bowling for Clarity

I want to be able to pull off my head, throw it onto the carpeted floor of my office, and watch the floor switch from amorphous brown to newly waxed white oak, filing cabinets, nearly defunct computers, and strained HP printers to turn into shelves holding bowling shoes, flat screens hosting scores of games, and printers to be...well, I don’t know. 

None of this makes sense.  

Basically I want my office to turn into a bowling alley upon dropping my head to the floor, and for my head to be a bowling ball. I’m the only one keeping score as my head coasts down the gutter, it coasts down the gutter because it needs to come full circle without hitting anything, it’s a head that embraces failure as its sense of organization. 

I’m in a game of consciousness but it can’t stream without first falling apart. 

So I guess I’ll let my bowling ball head knock over a few pins.

[armanddc]

Scratching Cattleya’s Back

From my TinyLetter. Subscribe. Do it!

~

Zadie Smith warned us not to romanticize the writer's vocation: it's either you know how to weave good sentences or you don't. For certain this is no discouragement. It's both a privilege and a crusade -- exhausting, whichever way you look at it -- to write. The years that followed my high school years when my Cattleya notebook had been mangled -- no, defaced! -- are enough for me to be able to compile the following. If you want to be a writer, prepare to be misconstrued, taken out of context, dissected, maimed, and dismantled. You don't have to be the best grammarian, but fuck you for letting things slip! But most of all, prepare to be stroked hard very hard with everyone's 'oohs' and 'ahhs'. Whatever the fuck do those mean? Oohs and ahhs? If you are a writer and familiar of what I speak about, then you're probably not that good. You are one inch close to failure. And before you actually do it, fuck you for even thinking of playing the vocation card. To whine is your vocation, apparently. Not to write. If, however, you are among the few that refuse this alibi, then I un-"fuck you!", for whatever that means. Because you don't stop writing and you brave the storm of deadlines and the other "fuck yous" you receive on a daily basis. You don't stop until you actually like what you are leaving on the page. What dirt you leave the already dirty minds. So, when you think you are about to climax, it's ideal that you don't. There's only one peak. Writers never come too easily. Maybe never at all.

[head-of-flowers]

Growing old with worry.

We sit atop rooftops of chagrin, our feet dangling above the regret that snaps at us from below. Gator-strength jaws and dagger-sharp teeth drip wet with the salivation of spite. When did we come to this place of over-the-shoulder glances and skipped heartbeats? We ran at full speed to depart the smooth skin of youth. The wrinkles set themselves deep into our sweat-sodden brows.

We cannot go back to the place of carelessness. Not even nostalgia offers us respite. That knowledge breathes over our hunched shoulders with heavy, unmoving stoicism.

Free-write // 18 November 2014

xMAlbright Follow @MAlbrightArt Like fb.com/MAlbrightArt

[nunchigoya]

Before I knew

Before I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up I wrote for the fun of it. Writing was simply my way if having a good time when my friends couldn't play, our when it was rainy. Now that I'm Pursuing a writing career I feel like my writing isn't add carefree as it used to. I wish I could just go back and feel that again. Feel the freedom of writing without thinking of an audience that might someday be.

[davisshepherd]

New Post has been published on Davis Shepherd

New Post has been published on http://davisshepherd.com/2013/07/17/site-revamp/

Site Revamp

I’m getting ready to launch a new version of this blog. I’ve already passed a major milestone in the arena of writing in that I am still here. In the past when I would get busy, I would abandon projects. Does anyone here remember open diary? Yeah, I had a few of those back in the day. One of the first “blogs”, even though the term didn’t exist yet. (Geez, am I that old?) Since then, I’ve had just about every type of blog that exists. Due to my perfectionism, however, I was unable to keep up with my writing because I held it to such a high standard. I would read it later and think my words were ridiculous and worthy of deletion. But I promised myself and my audience (we few, we happy few) that I would not quit, no matter what. Why? Because I am a writer. And writers write. I forgot that for a while. I left all the words in my head where they existed as paragons of plots and characters and messages. My mind was the only place they were safe from the critical eye of the world. But you know what? Who cares if this paragraph is getting so long that the skimmers and scanners among us have lost interest and moved on? I am writing. This is WRITING. Be it marvelous, miserable, or merely mundane, here it is.

I didn’t delete my old posts, just in case you were wondering if I am contradicting myself with this post. I have saved them for a place on the revamped site. I wish to make a distinction between before and after. Before, I was attempting to “establish” myself as someone and I used various tactics to do so. That doesn’t mean I was being dishonest or manipulative. I was just putting way too much thought into a blog that was only supposed to be about my writing journey and be a place for me to pour out all of my random thoughts so that my pointed thoughts could flow more freely into the book that I am writing. Would I like readers? Sure. But that isn’t the point of this for now. The point is the journey. Soon there will be sections of my site reserved for articles, essays, and more structures or intentional writing. But this, this bloggity blog right here, is for FREEDOM!