Talking To Myself

You’re not taking it seriously.
I know. But isn’t it better to do something rather than nothing?
Could be.
Building strong muscles takes endurance, doesn’t it?
I suppose.
I might get more serious when spring rolls around but it might be that the warmer weather will interfere as much as the cold.
Well, you know what so and so says, ‘Whether you think you can or you think you can’t you’re right’ — Ford wasn’t it?
It’s not a matter of whether I can or whether I can’t — I already am. It seems to be more of a question of what others think ‘being a writer’ is. Should someone who writes think at all about what others think?
Maybe if they’re trying to make money at it?
Cold weather makes me want to cuddle and knit and warm weather makes me want to go out and mingle with the ants and birds.
Is that procrastinating or avoidance or just plain preference interfering?
Maybe it’s a matter of not wanting it enough or not wanting enough to be great? How much weight needs to be lifted to become a great weightlifter? Or a good one for that matter — not that it matters — or does it?

Do you think you do — want it?
Want what?
To be a writer?
Yes, but I’m not sure I want to be a ‘great writer’ — whatever that means. Can someone only be a ‘writer’ if they have unwieldy expectations of grandeur to become a real and great writer?
What do you mean by ‘unwieldy’?
Oh, possibly top heavy or awkward or overly stacked one way more than another such that everything else in life is balanced more toward writing. Something like that. Maybe that’s a poor choice of words but it came to mind when I was thinking about how writing every.single.day. seems to weigh so heavily on my mind and how if I don’t do it I feel a sense of guilt —  but I also know that not every day something good is written because it’s actually only done for exercise and building writing muscle so that eventually words will flow out and into a real kind of structure that might have a little more meaning and value — even to myself.
Are you talking to yourself again?
Yes, I’m talking to myself again.
Someone in the grocery store said the other day that they talk to themselves because they were only good at listening when they were listening to themselves. I said I wasn’t even good at listening to myself because I lie to me and can’t be trusted to tell myself the truth so why bother listening if I’m lying — and, I think most everybody else lies as well so why listen to them either.
Actually, I’m not that bad at listening to liars if the liar isn’t me — b
ut, I’m bored with listening now — so, can we go out and play with the ants?
I suppose except that the ants are hibernating now so we can just go out and wait for spring when they’ll all come out to play again.
That sounds good to me. Or maybe we should read?

“If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that. ~ Stephen King

image credit: Katherine Streeter

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