For your amusement, recent excerpts from my writing journal (not writing writing, just things I write in response to what I'm writing, or to motivate writing, or to avoid writing, oh god sometimes I hate writing):

I worry a lot about the naturalism of phrasing, the likelihood of flow. I’ve given up trying to flow, it never flows. Everything is a fake. Smoke and mirror show. All writing is fallacy.

The torture of theme is overtaking whatever momentum I might have had. It makes me sad. I really don’t want to give up this idea, I really want to explore it, but how? How do writers explore ideas? And if I can’t figure it out, does that make me not-a-writer?

I think the problem might be images – I’m trying to write from images when that’s not what I do; I write from sound.

Write from sound, write from sound, fuck theme, fuck image, write from sound write from sound.

The drudge continues. Steely resolution, but is that what writing requires? Sensitive adjustments also. I don’t know why or how or how well, I just know I want to.

I don’t know. I just don’t know what to write anymore, what to think about, how to approach anything. I’m starting to think starting blank works just as well.

Ahhhhhhhh! time. Of course there’s nothing worse than writing against time. Guaranteed to make the writing fall flat. Or start flat. Crawl flat along the ground. The page. Gah.

My computer thinks it’s yesterday. Damn know-it-all laptops. OK, getting all excited about the work, about design, about chapbooks etc. But, much much left to write still. Counting chickens, eggs, thing, whatevahs.

You can’t go home again. You cannot rest on your laurels, and you can’t repeat success. Try to know this.

Hmmm. Just noticing a Mullenesque quality to the phrasing. Hope it’s not derivativivive.