Messy
But I don't know how to make messes! I like folding laundry and sweeping dirt into dust pans and being proud of the careful words I have written.
But when am I ever truly proud? Even when I write carefully, slowly, like someone is watching over my shoulder. I consult the many voices in my head before I even begin to write actual words. I filter, analyze, protect, shy-away-from the rawness of new words. By the time they reach the paper, they are no longer newborn.
But I don't know how to make messes! I like folding laundry and sweeping dirt into dust pans and being proud of the careful words I have written.
But when am I ever truly proud? Even when I write carefully, slowly, like someone is watching over my shoulder. I consult the many voices in my head before I even begin to write actual words. I filter, analyze, protect, shy-away-from the rawness of new words. By the time they reach the paper, they are no longer newborn.
