If you would not be forgotten,
as soon as you are dead and rotten,
either write things worth reading,
or do things worth writing.
If only you’d remember before you ever sit down to write that you’ve been a reader long before you were ever a writer. You simply fix that fact in your mind, then sit very still and ask yourself, as a reader, what piece of writing in all the world [you] would most want to read if [you]had [your] heart’s choice. The next step is terrible, but so simple I can hardly believe it as I write it. You just sit down shamelessly and write the thing yourself. I won’t even underline that. It’s too important to be underlined. Oh, dare to do it! Trust your heart.
I’m all riled up.
I want to do things worth writing. I am having trouble sitting still. It’s all I can do to type out this post.
I crave the scratch of pen on paper, the gloss of wet ink.
The photo is of a bearded robber fly, which is such a great name.
Jacob volunteered that he looked like Ben Franklin. I don’t know, if you’re a ten-year-old boy you see such things.
Hence, the quote. Which reminded me of the above passage from Seymour: An Introduction, which is akin to my own personal bible.
Which got me all riled up, as it always does.
Maybe later I will settle down, come back, finish the post I started last night.
I hope not. I hope I never properly settle down again.
What gets you all riled up and dreaming of greatness?
What things will you do this weekend worth writing about?