Classical Sass

(66) My writing evolution might be the sidestroke of the Olympic IM. I.e., not in there.

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Apparently after my last post on being easily overwhelmed and prone to burnout, I decided yes let’s add a consistent other activity but don’t forget to do it kitch-style and be completely unaware of the actual time commitment yup ready go. So here I am trying to write this post with approximately the same amount of time I usually allot to listening to anything Trump might have to say. (zero.)

I’m remembering the first few weeks of daily writing, where I clung to Jonas Ellison’s insistence that daily writing doesn’t have to be epic; a few short lines would do. And I unabashedly did just that; I had a post that was a sentence long and might as well have been an excerpt from my google calendar. I attempted poetry, but let’s be real, that was me sliming out of actually talking about anything because my poetry is borderline punishment for people who know words. I even did some super sad listicles (flees from cop-out banana peels). I got that daily post out because keeping to the daily plan was all that mattered.

I don’t look back on those days and feel I’ve cheated. When I wrote those posts, I was very for seriously clinging to my writing goal by virtue of a dried out pube and untrimmed fingernails. Writing daily then was literally the biggest struggle. Over the following weeks (or, possibly, during the entire time but more loudly and hopelessly), my writing struggles became more topic oriented. Like, I knew I could get paragraphs out, but please someone just minionize me into an actual topic because flarvguhp.

Eventually, out of sheer desperation, I started writing out topics ahead of time, even as they occurred to me (??!! i don’t know. i have odd pockets of adulting). But that also failed, because when writing time rolled around, I’d look at those topics and mutter something about how no one possibly cares about any of that including me regardless of wines. This is why never adult with any confidence. It will always hickey your ass into a national health crisis.

Anyways, over the last week or so, I’ve kind of played it casual with topics. Before Medium, and during my first few weeks on here, I would just start typing and hope a topic would emerge. Usually it did, because despite all of my whining, I am sometimes a lucky turd. Now, I sit here and wait until a fraction of my day grabs a non-fraction of my excitement. I let parts of the day dance without order in my head, and when a thought skips by with its back turned to me, I try to catch it in a spin so I can see its face. That has gone really well, and has been a surprising amount of fun, even if the thought itself is dark and unforgiving.

I kinda hope this part of the daily writing adventure lasts awhile. But, I never thought this would be the next phase, and what if the next one is even better? (HAHAHA i see you karma and fate stop planning your next festival of fuckery specifically for my writing derpitude k thanks.)


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