When ignorance was bliss
Tuesday, October 28, 2008, 7:48 PM
A few weeks ago, my sister asked me to write her a letter. You know--like how we did back in the olden days before email became the normal lazy-man's-way of communication. And so I've been trying to write a letter in longhand (gasp!). After two paragraphs, my hand got stiff and I knew I had that look on my face. That look that said oh, OW, my poor fricken hand. I used to take such pride in my penmanship--there weren't many other people who could write neater than I could. (Well, there weren't. Just ask Mr. Meyer, Mr. Recke, or Mr. Schmaling.)
I can't believe I used to write stories on college-ruled notebook paper. I'd go at it for hours, too--each page I wrote had to be perfect--I wouldn't accept crossed out paragraphs or spaces when erasing made a hole in the page. It messed with my writer's Joie de vivre, dammit.
I never had to pee, eat or stretch while writing back then, either. Ah, the good ole days. I wrote a lot of crap, but I wrote and wrote and wrote, joyfully unfettered by an internal editor. I didn't even know what an IE was. Didn't care, either, because I was having fun feeling like God and all.
definitely a case of ignorance and blissNow, if only I could recapture that period of writing, that time and space of mind when I wrote purely for the love of it...when I allowed my brain and my imagination free reign.