I recently read that it takes ten thousand hours of practice to master anything. Of course, I start trying (operative word) to do the math in terms of writing. How many hours have I logged? No idea. I've spent a long time wanting to write, a long time studying writing, and a long time actually writing but am I in the proverbial ballpark? Not sure. At the magic mark, will I know or have I passed it like a city on a road trip without any notable signs, a place designed to take you somewhere else? Or as so many cards and pillow samplers suggest, is the journey the important thing? I have come to the conclusion that I have no fucking idea.
Also, I have a summer cold which adds to the surreal aspects of this exercise. Cold medicine makes everything trippy, not like anything really good, but trippy like you never quite know where you are. I suppose that's a lot like writing. You're always on the road, hoping to see something great. But what is it you're looking for? Evil clowns? Museums dedicated to things that you didn't know that happened in the first place? Whatever it is, the road will take you there. Stay alert. You never know when you'll hit the mark.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"You're going to kick me out of my own trauma?" Nurse Jackie
Cocktail Hour
Movie suggestion: Midnight in Paris
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Saturday!
4 comments:
As always, well written.
Never know where you are." true, and even when you think you do you're in for a surprise.
How about no rules or guidelines. How about just doing what you do and not think upon someone elses sage advise for themselves? Count all the hoours after they are all spent then tally up the worth of them PD.
Hope you're feeling better! When I can't calculate something like how many hours I've painted, I just assumed I've painted that many hours. Easier that way. Screw it! *L*
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