I am at my desk, staring at the blinking cursor in my text editor for what feels like an hour. If I were in a movie, the camera would do that Ferris Bueller’s Day Off thing they did with Cameron in the museum, with his eye and the eye in the painting, but with me and the damn cursor.
It just cheerfully sits there, like, “are you doing to do anything? I can blink all day, my dude. I’ll just be sitting here, blinking and waiting. I wait a lot. And I don’t want to make it weird but you’re always staring right at me and not doing anything and it’s kind of creepy. So are you going to actually write anything? Or — oh, hey! Here we go! WHEEE I’m moving to the right an– oh, you stopped. Okay, that’s fine. I’ll just blink while you — WOOOAHHHH now I’m going backward so fast! Oh I think I’m going to be sick!”
After a couple of dry heaves, it continues: “No, no, just more blinking. Okay. Let me catch my breath for a seco- OH GOD WHY DID YOU SELECT ALL OF THAT TEXT I CAN’T EAT ALL OF THAT!
“Gulp, gulp, gulp, burp.” Exhale, gasp. “Oh god that’s a lot. Okay. Okay. You didn’t like those words, I get it. I don’t judge, but if I’m being honest, I didn’t feel them, either. It’s okay, you’re still figuring out these beats. I’m ready when you are. Blink. Blink.
“Oh, you’re getting up and … okay, you’re dusting the bookshelves. Okay, that’s good. You go ahead and I’ll be here when you get back. Just … just blinking. Just blinking because … that’s what I do. I blink and I type things.”
And so it goes, over and over for most of the day. My bookshelves are fucking SPOTLESS.
If we were still doing this with a typewriter, or a yellow pad, my room would be a paper ball pit. Which actually sounds kind of fun, if I’m being totally honest.
Anyway, this is a long way to go so I have something to post today, and it’s a long way to go to say “I eventually got about 190 words that I may even keep, and that’s good enough for me.”
As my dear friend Will says, Onward!
Discover more from WIL WHEATON dot NET
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
You mock yourself, but you still have done better than me this week! Why is writing.
I feel like looking around at crumpled up pages of typewriter or legal pad paper gives some sense of accomplishment, like “I tried. I haven’t gotten there, but I tried.” But writing on a computer and just deleting the false starts feels like going nowhere. Too bad I find it difficult to write by hand for long periods of time (plus, being a lefty, there’s a whole “smeared ink or pencil on the side of my hand” thing) and I don’t have a typewriter anymore.
Clippy can help with this!
Paper ball pit? I shudder at the thought of all the paper cuts!
190 words, that’s definitely a victory! Excelsior!
You’re doing the reps.
drops a pebble I hear you, Wil. I love a beautiful spotless bookshelf.
Sir – somebody made a name (or at least reputation) for themself with the opening line of “There once was a man from Nantucket”…. I’ve read some of your stuff – it’s even better than that!
Maybe watch your robotic vacuum cleaner swoosh around rather than let that dang cursor, well, curse at you.
😉
Enjoy your writing, even when you are making fun of your writing.
Writers block is real…and it’s frustrating as all get out!
I wish I could respond with something profound or even pithy. To make sure I was using the word correctly I looked it up. From the interwebs:
pithy
/pĭth′ē/
adjective
Precisely meaningful; forceful and brief.
“a pithy comment.”
Consisting of or resembling pith.
Consisting wholly, or in part, of pith; abounding in pith.
“a pithy stem; a pithy fruit.”
Then I completely lost my train of thought because I loved the 2nd and 3rd meanings, and chuckled to myself. I mean, imagine “abounding in pith”!!
(From The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition • More at Wordnik)
Ooh, kudos on spotless bookshelves! It sounds like you and the cursor have a mutual understanding, at least.
I am also going to clean (instead of writing or reading) this weekend. I’m not sure how spotless I can make my bookshelves, even with a tall dusting apparatus.
Well… that answers my question about your editing process!
A paper ball pit sounds like fun. My cats would love that. They go nuts when I open a box and there is brown packing paper inside. I leave it on the floor for them for a few hours to they can pounce on it and make all sorts of crinkling noises. I clean it up when I start hearing lots of tearing noises. ’cause cleaning up large sheets of brown paper is easier than cleaning up tiny bits of brown paper. Love your word pictures. Keep them coming 😀
190 words – that were fun to read! I know it’s hard for you to write at the moment, but I’m glad you keep trying. It’ll come together for you when the time is right.
That was a fun 180–taking the view of the screen watching you. Loved it and am still grinning.
Wishing I lived closer–you can come clean any of my shelves while you mentally combat that cursed cursor!
That was fun. It made me smile!
I for one am loving these stream of consciousness posts. Keep them coming!
Even your not-writing is writing. We love that!!
I spend so much time writing what I’m paid to write while brimming with ideas for what I WANT to write, only to sit, staring, with my mind as blank as the screen in front of me as soon as I have the leisure to be creative.
Oh, this is EXTREMELY relatable to me.
You’ve got this, little buddy! (And you too, Wil)
WW: Hello, my name is Will and I’m a writer.
Everyone: Hello Will.
WW: It’s been 190 words since my last deletion…
🙂
now i want to build a paper ball pit. wheee!
Loved this! Now you can come over here and dust off my bookshelves for me. 😁
guess what? remember when you were in that movie with the train. well i was like just in the train! yeah so there’s that. cool.
Dizzying! Sounds like Dramamine is in order.
Wil, you are exactly my kind of people. 100%.
Your writing is wonderful , even if you think you feel stuck .
Please come and do my bookcases.
That was such a perfect capture of the love/hate relationship with the blinking cursor. Some days it feels like the cursor is mocking us, and other days it’s the only thing keeping us company while we wrestle the words out. But you’re right, even a handful of sentences is still progress, and that’s worth celebrating. Onward, indeed.