Rejoining a craft that I can’t seem to let go of – at least not completely
I haven’t written a proper blog post in years. I never know what to say when the editor faces me down, when all I have in front of me is a blank canvas. I don’t want to be premature in saying that this part of me – one that has been in me since I first learned to wield a pencil – is dead. It’s certainly in cryopreservation at the moment.
I’ve tried. God knows how I’ve tried, how I’ve begged my mind to let go of even one idea that it knows is publishable, and yet I come away empty-handed, the metaphorical stone unwilling to release any of its precious blood. I don’t know why my brain so stubbornly refuses to let its owner express itself.
Well, I’m here to tell you something: I refuse to be held hostage to my own brain. In the characteristically rough tone I used to use when I wrote: fuck that shit. And in the words of Duke Nukem, let’s rock.
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