It used to be “putting pen to paper,” but now, the instant access to a broad audience means that we throw ideas and words out like old underwear, not really caring who sees them. So, here is some underwear for you to watch as it spins around the clothes line.
It has been so long since I actually wrote something and I invariably have a number of excuses. The most honest excuse is that I have been afraid to commit to something that I feel passionate about. Fear of failing, but wanting to be successful. Feeling inadequate, but seeking recognition.
I want to write. I want to communicate. I want to tell stories. I want to create a photograph with words.
Fear is a great motivator and a bastard of a thief.
So here is a recent kernel of an idea.
I took a piece of paper and folded a paper crane.
I breathed into it the sacredness of life.
Transforming still flesh into a gentle rhythm
heard first in the darkness, a hymn of praise
A sharp intake, an exhalation
It took wing and I blessed it as it flew away,
an emblem of fragile beauty.
Time to take that piece of string I tied around my foot, pull it over my shoulder and give myself a good, swift kick up the bum. Time to simply write, even it is rubbish. Especially if it is rubbish. A good analogy I once heard in relation to songwriting, that also applies to writing, is to “pump the well.” At first, all you get is mud, detritus, but if you keep pumping, you will find clear, clean water.
I won’t be away for so long. I promise.