I'd like to challenge myself to choose a photograph, or several, every day (or close to) and write something about it.
I'd like to not worry so much about it being read or seen and how it looks.
This is something I'm trying to practice in general- being less cautious, fearful, stingy and calculated in what I put out into the world.....focusing rather on putting out something honest, and letting the pieces fall as they may; let those who think anything of it think whatever they like! Ha!
Yesterday as I stood in a laundry room painting shellac onto floorboards (one of the final steps in eradicating any trace of bad Leroy, the curmudgeonly and spiteful pee machine of a cat who once occupied this home...not my home, someone I like and who also pays me's home) I wrote some excellent pieces in my head.
But the most daunting part of setting off on any adventure, and in this case I am talking specifically about a creative one, is that initial show down with the first blank page.
I always felt like I empathized pretty well with Bret Easton Ellis' fondness for starting a novel in the middle of a sentence....like someone who jumped a long time ago and their feet only just hit the ground. Naturally it ends the same way. You know, just very in your face with it; "This is obviously not the beginning. It's just when you start listening. There is not end, you just don't know what happens next."
It's definitely a tool I've used in the past, even just in journaling , to alleviate some of the pressures of the burdensome task of over thinking a goddamn First Page.
So there.
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