Don’t try this at home.
I must say, writing is a much harder profession than I anticipated. Especially when doing so full–time, it’s difficult to get into a groove and find that muse — whether at home, in an office, or what–have–you. I guess that’s why there always seems to be a plethora of writers in Starbucks and similar places whenever you go there.
Which I have; I’m sitting in a Starbucks in Leslieville, Queen St E in Toronto. I’m trying to write, only I guess I’m not cut from the same cloth as the other laptop–bearers kicking it around me. Something about the Cuban–fusion music being just a bit too loud? Perhaps it’s more the idea that a change of scene doesn’t exactly invoke creativity.
I like watching people in public. I always have, only when I was in high school I was observing them in order to draw them, making little sketches more akin to geometric compositions than to human forms… but I still felt as though we were engaging somehow. Now I just see them walking back and forth — accompanied by baby strollers, yoga bags, stepping into the rightmost lane of traffic to scour for a streetcar. If I’m here all the way from London, what about them? How far have they been walking their dog? Where is the streetcar going to take them?
I’m glad I don’t have to write novels for a living. I envy those writers the creative strength they must possess to do so, but I’m glad that school begins in another eight weeks or so, glad to be getting back into a groove that sees me writing about music and returning to my comfort zone while I return to my studies and struggle creatively in a different arena.
Sometimes I think it’s all about the struggle.