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Nothing Wise or Profound

I’m afraid today is Tired Tuesday.  I did start writing one thing while at work today, but is just isn’t going to work out.  You see, a terrible news story is occupying my mind and my emotions.  I knew I wouldn’t come up with anything profound or wise, but I thought I could say something.  It turns out that I can’t.

People always advise you to write about what’s bothering you.  I used to try, but it never helped.  I usually just got more upset as I articulated my problems.  I don’t think I’m that persuasive a writer, but I sure managed to persuade myself.  Go figure.

Years later I read in Ernest Hemingway’s A Movable Feast how he could write about Minnesota (I think) in Paris, but he could not write about Paris while he was there.  I don’t have the exact quote, because it’s been years since I’ve read it.  I must purchase a copy to have.  I read a similar thought in Natalie Goldman’s Writing Down The Bones.  She said you couldn’t write about being in love when you were in the first throes of infatuation:  all you want to write is, “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.”  That quote I could look up, because I own that book, but I’m just too, you guessed it, tired.

So even if I was wise and profound (we all know I’m not), I probably could not come up with something wise and profound at this point.  According to Hemingway and Goldberg, I could potentially write about something I felt or experienced years ago.  I’ll try that tomorrow.  I won’t promise wisdom or profundity, of course, but I’ll try not to be lame till Friday.


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