Writing writing is nothing like writing.
Writing makes no sense and flows from your thoughts like a swirly doodle in a margin. Writing is disorganized and chaotic. But writing has rules, so I’m told. My writing should have structure and points and facts and grammar. Writing is cohesive and sensible and correct and boring. No.
Writing writing is nothing like writing.
Writing should have emotion and feelings and opinions scribbled on lines or not on lines. Out of the lines. Writing should scream and jump and cry and laugh and bitch! Writing is and does and will. Writing is living with no regrets and fears and inhibitions and filters and judgment. Writing is honest.
But writing gets punished for crossing that line. Writing is banned for relating and reaching out and touching and stimulating. Writing continues to fight that barrier and cross that line because writing writing is nothing like writing.
Go on, write. Write ’til the mind clears and the tears stop and the ideas two-fold and the imagination expands. Nothing stands between a pencil and a blank, white sheet of paper. Thoughts run straight from the mind down through the rubber and metal and wood and lead.
Dot an I, cross a t, with an f-r and a double e, swerve an s and exclaim because writing writing is nothing like writing.