Write stuff

“No matter how much rejection I faced, I kept writing and recording because I had some unspeakable need to do it. I just kept doing it, even if no one was ever going to hear it, I loved doing it.”
-Mark Oliver Everett, aka E of Eels, “Things the Grandchildren Should Know”

I might not be facing the same adversity ol' E did for quite a while trying to become a noteworthy musician in L.A., but I feel his unspeakable need to write, his love for it. I'm planning to write and read every day for the four months I live on this island. With the all-consuming stress of simultaneously being a senior in college and an editor at a twice-weekly newspaper behind me, I've got renewed energy to read for fun and write anything I want. Doing something you love for an education or a living -- whether it's enjoying literature, making art or music, or writing -- can sap your creative juice so by the time you're done your work, you have no energy to write or read what you'd really like to.

Part of the great thing about being a journalist is that you don't need any kind of license, certification, or really any education. You could be a Russian major and write for the New York Times doing standard news stories or a first-year journalism student learning more at a newspaper than in your classes. Still, with a degree and an internship at a newspaper, I feel more like a professional writer than ever, and it's great -- and I still have a ton of ambition to write for pleasure. I love it -- this is what I was made to do. Here's a scribble from my notebook that may illustrate this all better than I have up to this point. I wrote this at a cafe yesterday.

Write write write. Write something -- or think or something, write nothing. Crack knuckles, click pen, close eyes, open eyes. Is this writing or a sketch, a doodle, a scribble? Something about writing by hand I forgot somewhere along the way. Good to have remembered. Longhand just works. Whether this scrawl is worthwhile or a waste, it's fun. Pen on paper reminds me why I love this, why I was made to do this. News, a short story, an e-mail, a song, a note, a letter, a blog, a text message, a nothing-scribble filling a page in one of many notebooks -- it's all writing, and it's all energizing. Can't wait to do this for the rest of my life.

Not sure if it's living in this new place, my new post-college circumstances, the new love I'm reveling in (Mary's at home, in Orono, but we Skyped last night and saw each other's faces and are doing well) or a swirling combination of things, but I en't arguin'. I'm going to ride this muse while it lasts and keep on scrawlin' on.

In keeping with my promise of staying brief, I'm wrapping this up here. I'll post another notebook scribble in the comments section if you're down for more. It's what I wrote on my first time on a beach in MV.



Stay tuned. Another post coming later today.