“A writer never has a vacation. For a writer life consists of either writing or thinking about writing." (Eugene Ionesco)
“Think, think, think” (Winnie the Pooh)
I’ve been thinking about writing. This week
it seems that my life consists more of thinking about writing than of actually
writing.
I think I am a writer. I think, therefore I
write. Is that right? If I write what I think, will I write something right?
Winnie the Pooh said, “I am a bear of very
little brain.” His brain was stuffed with fluff. The human brain is about 77%
water. That could explain why I get my best ideas while I am in the shower.
While the shower water is running, my thoughts seem so profound. Surely if I
wrote down those thoughts, I would soon grow rich from my words.
But alas, those profound thoughts go down the drain with the water
and the soapsuds.
Sometimes writing feels like wringing words
out of my brain. Maybe my gray matter is drying up. My fourth grade teacher,
Miss Friesen, taught us about gray matter. She said that as we get older, the
roots of our hair grow in deeper. If they hit gray matter, they turn gray. If
they hit a vacuum, our hairs fall out.
If I can remember a joke from the fourth grade,
why can’t I remember all of those profound thoughts I think I thought in
the shower this morning?
I think these are all the thoughts I can
wring out of my brain today. All thunk out.
