I have written this thing every day for almost 50 days. The entries are getting shorter and my will to expand it and make it into something palpable wanes by the day. I lack that confidence you need in order to foist things onto the world. There’s a good line in Alex James’s autobiography about how difficult it is to be an artist because it is so much about belief and, if you the feeling that you’re not good enough takes root, you’re fucked.
I see this same thing in people I know. They lack confidence, not insight. Quite what they would produce if they had the confidence I’m not sure. I no longer have any idea why anyone would produce anything bar a few Beckettian lines about the exhaustion of everything in the world.
Just this minute stepped out of the office to get a glass of water and ended up rewriting my girlfriend’s exhibition catalogue. I have something to say about other’s writings that I would never say about my own. Practical concerns. I wish I had it in me to be a collaborator with someone.
So what could I write that would turn out really good? How about a novel about a man who spends his whole life wondering what he should do with his life. Write about what you know, that’s what they say don’t they. Hmmm.
If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
Leave a Reply