On writing when you can’t

Recently, multiple people have contacted me concerning their blockage of writing. Here are my thoughts on this- Give yourself permission to write. Especially, give yourself permission to write what you aren’t allowing yourself to write and write all of it. Then, trim away.

If someone in your life is causing you to pause, or even controlling your writing, write it anyway. You don’t need permission to live your life. Live it, write it.

In my opinion it’s very unlikely a blockage is anything other than a block put in place by yourself, or someone next to you. Fear. You already know what to do. Do it. Even if the writing isn’t perfect, timeless, or up to your standards. It doesn’t matter. Not doing it at all is the only true failure.

Best of luck and cheers,

Matt

A Child’s Story – Odd Walking Thoughts

If we don’t think like you this makes us a degenerate, or slave. What’s next. I’m imagining your campaign. It’s already ugly. Grow the apple farthest from this tree and please let’s not forget where it came from.  A young girl hung her head in shame. She walked along the beach alone. Hurt. She happened upon the frog. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked. ‘I’m doing everything in my moment to be exactly me. What are you doing?’ asked the frog. The young girl studied the frog. ‘I’m being sad because I’m a degenerate.’ ‘And who called you a degenerate?’ ‘The man who didn’t like my dress. I told him I wore it for the sharks and that I wanted to grow up and swim with them and know them. That’s when the man told me I was a degenerate.’ ‘It’s best to never know that man. That man has forgotten where his dress swam.’ said the frog.

I read our infant Ernest Hemingway books

I’m reading The Old Man and the Sea to Gavin. Generally I read to him when we put him down to sleep. Gavin enjoys talking at us with a few words only he truly understands. Megan and I feel we have learned five of them to the best of our ability. Either way, we talk back, and he makes funny faces and smiles often.

I’ve chosen an Ernest Hemingway book to be the first full book I read to him because I believe infants need to hear words. Many of them. Not just, cat, dog, and hi baby. I think they are able to stuff these brilliant sounds into their growing brains far better than we know. We humans, especially adults, love to think we know everything. Then, we look at blooming teenagers and remind them they don’t know everything. Scratch that, I will never tell a teenager they don’t know everything because it’s possible they do and it’s possible I know so little that maybe I ought not be like all the adults I believed I truly knew more than.

Anyway, we read to Gavin. The first time I opened the book I told him who Ernest Hemingway was and when he was born. I then told him he wrote many books, one of which is the book I was now going to read to him. Gavin feel asleep after the first paragraph. He’s rebounded nicely and seems to listen for much longer stretches of time before nodding off into his dream land.

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Gavin- p.s. Three nurses came to visit you yesterday. Megan wanted to learn how to stretch your little body so you could grow perfectly well. We learned a few interesting things about you. The nurses did a number of tests. It turns out all of the fun facial expressions you’ve been making, and the number of words you’ve created and use are what’s considered to be advanced. I don’t care what tests say about a person. But, I thought you might like to know.  One of the categories you were tested on was called expressive communication. Normal values were from 40-60. You scored a 73. They also said you’re very handsome and that we should send your picture to Gerber. So, now your mother is sending your picture to Gerber.

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Isn’t it odd that our society is attaching test scores to you? You aren’t yet two months old. We’ll talk about test scores and society much more. Just remember, it’s important to be happy and to truly know yourself. Society hasn’t gotten there yet…so be careful when talking heads lean in closely to speak in your direction.

I’m rambling. I’m going to post this now and then go kiss your forehead. You’ll most likely grunt.