I don’t write anymore unless it’s freelance. Unless Instagram counts (and I do not, personally, count it), I don’t take pictures anymore. I’ve lost the motivation to do it for personal reasons. Art is hard. When I was in high school, writing was easy. I’d write a short story a night. I’d prepare it for sending out as a query the next day. I’d sent it out and it would be done until eventually a “Congratulations, we’d like to publish your piece” letter found its way to my mailbox. I kept no organization or records. When I ‘d receive a letter, half the time I wouldn’t remember the query or even the story. It was worse with poetry. Napkins, journals, post-it-notes, blue books after I’d finish tests – poetry everywhere. I lived it and I would submit it with no thought. Even in college, I vividly remember writing poetry at 4:30AM in the morning when I couldn’t sleep before going outside to see if any of the smokers were around to talk to. Ah, honors students and philosophy majors!
Fast-forward (and I do mean fast) to 2017 where my words stay in my head and linger instead of ever finding a page.
Art is hard. Cursive was right. Or write. How punny!