For Me, Writing Is....

It’s been a while since I’ve updated my blog. One of my professors told me that because I’m going to be an English teacher, I need to make a habit of writing. HA! And what have I been doing with the last four years of my life? Certainly not writing. However, I understand her point: I need to make a habit of writing for writing’s sake, not because an assignment compels me to.

I wrote this next piece for one of my classes. I thought I would share it. My class was asked to write about writing, make a collage about writing, and then rewrite the first prompt after establishing a metaphor for writing (did you follow that?). Anyway, despite its unorthodoxy, here is my final product:

For me, sometimes writing is like going to the toilet. Feeling the pressure build up inside me, I walk into the bathroom, unbuckle my pants, and assemble myself on the toilet. After fifteen minutes of pushing and grunting, however, I have nothing to show for my effort. Frustrated—and still not relieved—I stand up, pull up my britches, and, despite the lack of a deposit, flush the toilet. After about an hour or so, when I feel like success is attainable, I head back to the bathroom and try again: ten minutes of struggle bring only two small plops of water. I need help. I open the medicine cabinet, pull out the white plastic bottle with the purple lid, and toss back two capsules of Metamucil. “That’ll do the trick,” I think. I few hours later, with a groan of relief, I flush the toilet; my system is free from all that has been building up inside of me. Writing isn’t much different. I sit in front of a blank computer screen while thoughts and ideas overload my system—but I can’t seem to get them out. I type a few lines, read them, and then delete them. The abstract notions in my mind seem to lose their profundity as they stare back at me from the screen. Frustrated with my wanting prose and absence of progress, I abandon my work. I make another attempt later in the day but with little success. Finally I consult my muse—usually the threat of an encroaching deadline—for motivation. It seems to help because I can finally write. When I finish I’m content to be relieved, but there’s one reality I can’t avoid: my writing is shit.