Lev Grossman tweeted: “Why is writing so much harder for me than it is everyone else? –every novelist ever, secretly to themselves, all the time.”
Well I can relate to this quote, but I am not so sure I am completely uninspired. Let me think. You are correct. Writing is hard.
It is Friday night and poor little Mo imagines herself ensconced in a busy little pub downtown. It is dark, noisey and smelling oddly of stale beer. Surrounding me are loud, imbibed and happy people, chatting about nothing in particular.
Alas, here I am, poised above the keyboard….thinking….conspiring to be inspired. Think Mo, think more deeply.
Lev, if I can call you Lev, who is “everybody”?
Friday night is the reward for all the hard working, somewhat uninspired people, willing to cast away one night a week and pretend that the week was not an uninspired page in their life. I believe, even the Great William Shakespeare had nights just like this.
So, is it true that for you, Lev, it is harder than for everybody else? I think not.
I can see with my mind’s eye, one William Shakespeare in a local English Pub, tired but looking amused and subconsciously listening to the publican natter on. Shakespeare thinks to himself; “A fool doth thinks he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” With that revelation, Shakespeare is off and writing, As you like it
Lev, it is great to know you are a novelist!
Could it be it is easier for a playwright but harder for a novelist? Where would that leave a mere blogger? Can your tweet, Lev, provide inspiration for such an unworthy little Mo on a dark but pleasant Friday in September? Is it possible that your spontaneous tweet has unlocked a glimmer, a spark of creativity in me. I like to think so.
And I think, secretly to myself…..
Had I been Juliet, I might say, “Good night, goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night til it be morrow.” As written by the Great Shakespeare.
I will now slumber until my next blog.