I confess: I am an unwriter.
For decades, I’ve thought of myself as a writer-in-the-making. I’ve read about how writers prepare/process/discipline themselves; I’ve participated in workshops and devoured essays, articles, books, and blogs of those whose work inspires and encourages me to persist. Yet, despite not actually practicing successful writers’ strategies, and having a pitifully small body of “completed” writing, I’ve maintained my self-delusion. Until now.
As an unwriter, I make up clever stories. In my head. I get excited about something writable, then diffuse the energy by talking about it or getting distracted by the next exciting something. I don’t jot writing ideas on torn napkins or notes apps, or keep a useful journal, or set aside regular writing time. I am a champion unwriter.
I could probably start a business that helps others to become successful unwriters. Won’t happen, though. I’m also an unentrepreneur.
For decades, I’ve thought of myself as a writer-in-the-making. I’ve read about how writers prepare/process/discipline themselves; I’ve participated in workshops and devoured essays, articles, books, and blogs of those whose work inspires and encourages me to persist. Yet, despite not actually practicing successful writers’ strategies, and having a pitifully small body of “completed” writing, I’ve maintained my self-delusion. Until now.
As an unwriter, I make up clever stories. In my head. I get excited about something writable, then diffuse the energy by talking about it or getting distracted by the next exciting something. I don’t jot writing ideas on torn napkins or notes apps, or keep a useful journal, or set aside regular writing time. I am a champion unwriter.
I could probably start a business that helps others to become successful unwriters. Won’t happen, though. I’m also an unentrepreneur.
