The Passionate Writer

10 comments

I’ve taken to writing in my underwear. It’s damned liberating. This past week, I’ve been doing my writing in one of these.

IKEA Poang chair

The IKEA Poang chair is the best thing that has happened to my body in a very long time aside from my bike. Whenever I come up with something really good, I lean back and relax into this chair for 10 seconds, feeling instantly cradled in the arms of nature somehow, it’s that ergonomically perfect. Perfect like nature. So I sit back for 10 seconds, breathe, then bound forward to continue my process.

Anyhow, my new fondness for nakedness while writing has inspired me to write this story.

__________________________________

I’m sitting in my underwear. In my living room, for crying out loud. Nice big underwear. Feeling gravity’s pull. Everything is nice. Everything is more than nice.

Except my neighbor is yelling something into my wall again. The message to me is, Stop shrieking. No one cares about your sex life.

**

Indeed, it was her love life that was making her shriek. It was her love of writing. She sized up the words on the page with an unceasing appetite. She could go for hours without stopping, no energy decreasing. Sometimes, she even outran herself. She’d be eagerly starting one story when another would spring from some word. A random word would spring from one story and leap off to create its own. She was juggling a lot.

But it had to be it’s own story; there wasn’t enough room to share stories. These are short stories. Someone’s ego would eventually get bruised, or else it’d have to turn itself into a novel, and “There’s no way in hell I’m ever writing a novel,” she’d say to herself.

“My brain is beautifully small. Short stories, personal essays, commentary, travel writing. No slaving over some enormously looming structure, bowing to it as I push aside every creative whim to appease its hunger for stability.”

“So one story sometimes leads to two, sometimes three. I like to think of them as my offspring. Goodness knows, I’ll never find a man in this self-induced solitary confinement. Anyhow, why should I go out searching for ecstasy abroad when it’s right here in my hands?”

“There’s this sentence forming deep inside me. It’s twisting against my pelvis. It’s rising through me. It’s revising, it’s changing; it’s getting there. Because I’m a woman, you think this is all symbolic of the child I long for. But maybe you haven’t heard anything I said before. These words are what I love. I’d never sacrifice this constant hunger and satisfying. This thing inside of me is firing my nerves, expanding my lungs, tingling my mind. It’s traveling the lengths of my body; it’s making me feel like I am enough, and good enough, and it feels so good, and here it is.

The perfect sentence.

I shriek. My neighbor is pissed off again.

Soon, maybe underwear will be too restricting of my creative juices.”

 

Advertisements

10 comments on “The Passionate Writer”

  1. (Pre-Script — finally back home from traveling) πŸ˜‰

    I now have some time to catch-up on all my blogger’s newest blog-posts! Do you think you’re the first one or the last; the middle? Hahahaha! You don’t have to answer that Lyz. 😈 What matters is that I very much enjoy your writing and style… and now apparently YOUR unique writing condition! Wooohooo!

    Freedom of expression allows one of humanity’s greatest gifts to thrive and flourish: genius. I say get as liberated as possible and write, write, WRITE!!! πŸ˜€

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hellooooo! Glad to hear from you! πŸ™‚ I can’t wait to hear about your travels and have our chats. You’re always so supportive and it means a lot to me. As for creativity, it’s so important to give it as much space as possible.
      I’ve been writing so much, but I do most of it on paper first, sometimes voice recordings, and the rewriting it online is my biggest hang up. Wish I could afford a transcriber (if that’s what it’s called). Of course, I have to suck it up like a big girl. Welcome back!

      Liked by 1 person

            1. Yes, I did see it! I SCREAMED bloody murder when I saw chipped edges, different lengths on different fingers! OH THE CHAOS! OH THE HUMANITY!!! (in his best Herbert Morrison impersonation, of the LZ 129 Hindenburg zepplin, 1937)

              Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s