The Novice

How do I write?

How do I express what I think and feel with words? Do I just keep writing every thought I have in my mind down, or will that only be confusing? I believe it confusing.

Too confusing.

Am I to enrapture and tangle like a spider tangles its flies every person who lays their eyes upon

my words.

For these are my words, they are spoken every day a million times by a million different people.

But these words, in this order, these are mine.

And so it begins once again, I am who I always was but who I lost, I am now found.

Once again I can begin this



mess of a love affair with a language I cannot perfect.

But I do not wish to perfect it,

as long as I am understood, as long as in minds my thoughts can be seen.

I do not wish to be heard,

only read and taken in with every breath you who now reads this takes in.

And so I can start again,

once more,

the spiral upwards, and this time if I head down, you shall follow it in every footstep as my shadow. As I am willing to share a destruction harmless to you,

as long as you understand,

it is harmful to the bearer of you, my shadow. It harms.

I don’t think spiders quite enrapture their flies, but whatever, I obviously liked the sound of the word. I think that’s one of the trickiest things with writing, finding the right word for the rhythm your sentence is moving in. Sometimes you can hear the sound you need but it just doesn’t fit to any word you can think of. And really, why isn’t herblesquerb a word in the English dictionary?

Anyway, this isn’t what I wanted to post up this week (I’ve lost what I had planned to post, because, you know, clutter) so I wrote it up somewhat begrudgingly. But, oh well, it’s here now! By the way, it was spaced in a particular way on paper so I’m pretty pissed that I don’t know how to keep it in its original form. But again, oh well!

It was pretty interesting to read for a couple of reasons. For one, I was obviously just learning about writing. I was a teenager practicing but I was also playing with the idea of what writing is about. Now I just write and it doesn’t feel half as enchanting as it must have back then. The thinking bit feels enchanting, the daydreaming, but the actual job of getting thousands of words down on paper is a bit of a drag. I’ve started to feel like a one trick pony already and I’ve only written one book. Moving on:

Secondly, I was interested in what I wrote at the end about the upward and downward spiral thing. That wasn’t about writing, it was about mental health. That’s a whole other blog and story for another time though.

Maybe by next week I’ll have found that poem, if not it’ll be a couple of pages from a story I started but never finished. Oh hoho, there are so many of those! One day… one day! *shakes fist*

Until next writing time machine,


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