Why so quiet? You ask.
Well it's not that I don't have lots of things to say. Thoughts tumbling around like laundry in the machine. Voices in my head, and not very positive ones mostly. I know those voices are mine, much as I like to pretend they come from other people (which is making me think of this project I read about, if your inner folk are causing you problems - fascinating).
Anyhow. I don't need an avatar project to give faces to my outer folk - I know what they look like, I know who they are. And some of those voices are not very positive ones either.
"Your so-called writing is one big confidence trick. Drivel dressed up as art".
"Words aren't really important to me".
"I would prefer it if you didn't speak to me unless you have something interesting to say".
Once I get to three I feel it's gone beyond a coincidence, don't you?
The thing is, the words build up inside me . Like an unexploded bomb. Like a volcano. Like a pressure cooker. You get the picture. So noisy in here I can hardly hear myself think. Inner voices, outer voices, words bubbling up like geysers - what can I do with them all?
I need to write. I do. I need to write lots of things, all sorts of things. Work things, home things, tweets, blogs, funny things, sad things, opinion pieces, magazine articles, poems, press releases, novels, reports, legal pleadings, birthday cards.... I need to write.
Writing is one big confidence trick? Damn right.
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