Posted in Rant

Not the Right Kind of Stiffy

I think that my writing is stiff. I feel my words don’t flow as well as I think they should. Sometimes I read the thing that I just wrote and am aghast at my choice of words.

Perhaps this is not a malady, but merely a case of first draft blues. If it is, “giving myself permission to suck” isn’t working for me. Frustration has been with me like an old friend, and I don’t think that my choice of language is why it stayed.

I suppose that one way to rid it is through sheer force of will. “Practice makes perfect,” seem to require the ten thousand hours I don’t seem to have or want to spend. Jotting down words has not been that fun for me. Either it has stopped being fun, or that I simply have little fuel in the absence of a nemesis. Perhaps I should make a nemesis of myself, of my doubts and my shortcomings. Perhaps I’m also cynical about making a foe of oneself as an effort to challenge for the better. Or simply, I just don’t have the gumption (which is a new favourite of mine).

Come to think of it, the energy that is required to write (and argue) on Twitter might come from the same place as writing opinion pieces for a publication. I suppose both are essentially airing pessimisms to an audience, and this here is no different.

At any rate, it should be quite obvious that this post is the product of a practice session. I should take advantage of the fact that almost nobody reads my blog as a carte blanche to write whatever for the sake of reaching that elusive ten-thousand hours mark.


I write as a hobby.

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