Tuesday, April 27, 2010

feverish ramblings.

"The sound of the razor as it neared my head made the moment more realistic, and I opened my eyes to stare at my reflection in the salon mirror. I held my breath as Miss Peggy did her task. Within five minutes, the hair I had refused to let go of for years fell to the floor.

The razor turned off. I exhaled."

Too dramatic? Not dramatic enough? I'm having an issue with tone. I hate adopting a serious tone unless I'm writing about something apocalyptic. Yet even in the serious pieces, I've come to find my voice has adopted one of cynicism and irony.

I'm trying to find a way to infuse my personal voice into my workshop piece. I don't want to write a clich├ęd piece of overcoming hardships and triumphing over my own self-conscious attitudes. That's too easy and too boring, this "Hey, I struggled but now I'm fine!" attitude. And after all, maybe I'm not fine. Like I wrote in my Emotional Explanation and Examples post: You can embrace it, but you're always dealing with it everyday.

Lately, writing has been like jumping on a trampoline. You know it's fun and you want to do it, but you're tired and the fear of falling off irrationally runs through your brain. Or maybe it's everyone who says it should be fun, so you believe it is. I've been loathing my own words, as of late, for no particular reason. Every sentence I string together seems to drip with syrupy deceit. "What's the point?" I've been asking myself, but the truth is that I'd rather be writing and struggling with it than doing anything else.

This crisis I've been having has slowed down for now. I still find myself at a loss over the future, but this isn't the time to worry about it.

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