Some days I wish I were more prolific in my writing endeavors. Most days really. Sadly, my writings remain bereft of progeny (go look up prolific). It's odd too, because I often feel like I have scads of stories and whatnot roiling about in my mind, but perhaps it may be as simple as not knowing where to start. Sometimes having too many options is the worst possible situation to be in. It doesn't help any that I'm not always sure what kind of writing that I want to write. That's probably why I end up doing poetry so much more often, the brief, restrained subject matter. I wrote up a storm for a while when I was constraining myself to ten word stories.
Attempting terseness, while still retaining understanding, if not story, can be refreshingly fun. I think it really is true that a lot of creativity flowers under boundaries. Sometimes having none at all is absolutely stifling. And my thoughts sometimes fly by so swiftly that trying to write them down blocks up all the others. I don't know why I can't ever muster the energy required to sit down and just do it. I feel like I'm missing something, but I haven't a clue as to what. One doesn't have to have a current muse in order to create; my drawing has proven that to me. Maybe I just need that initial kick to get me going. Though I would really appreciate an interest on which to focus.
Attempting terseness, while still retaining understanding, if not story, can be refreshingly fun. I think it really is true that a lot of creativity flowers under boundaries. Sometimes having none at all is absolutely stifling. And my thoughts sometimes fly by so swiftly that trying to write them down blocks up all the others. I don't know why I can't ever muster the energy required to sit down and just do it. I feel like I'm missing something, but I haven't a clue as to what. One doesn't have to have a current muse in order to create; my drawing has proven that to me. Maybe I just need that initial kick to get me going. Though I would really appreciate an interest on which to focus.