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Jan. 3rd, 2010 07:31 pmMike is teaching himself shorthand, to keep a paper journal. The other day, during the cleaning of the closet, I noticed I'm still carrying around a couple boxes of journals and spiral notebooks from my late high school and college years. They make me uneasy, but I can't bring myself to get rid of them.
It's made me think a lot about the way one approaches writing. In the past year or two I've been very conscious of editing, of censoring things that I might have written down without hesitation in a place less public. There have also been moments when I wrote something I dearly wanted acknowledgment of, comments for - and nothing. But writing about how disappointing that experience is seems gauche, one of those attention seeking internet embarrassments. It's hard to balance not wanting to be an asshole with genuine disappointment at a lack of response.
Perhaps this year I should make an effort to write more for myself, even if that means privately. I will have to give up some of the gratification of response in order to make sure I record things.
Our Christmas tree came down. I miss the comforting dark bulk already.
It's made me think a lot about the way one approaches writing. In the past year or two I've been very conscious of editing, of censoring things that I might have written down without hesitation in a place less public. There have also been moments when I wrote something I dearly wanted acknowledgment of, comments for - and nothing. But writing about how disappointing that experience is seems gauche, one of those attention seeking internet embarrassments. It's hard to balance not wanting to be an asshole with genuine disappointment at a lack of response.
Perhaps this year I should make an effort to write more for myself, even if that means privately. I will have to give up some of the gratification of response in order to make sure I record things.
Our Christmas tree came down. I miss the comforting dark bulk already.