Whenever I’m driving is when the words flow in my head and when I get the urge to write them down.  It’s frustrating. (It’s probably also a tad dangerous because I’m driving while my mind is elsewhere.  It’s not infrequently that I find myself going where I didn’t intend to go because I was lost in some thought, in some conversation in my head….)

I’ll find myself thinking, “don’t forget this!”…and you can guess what happens once I get home…
I tried once to record what I was thinking while driving.  I couldn’t stand my voice and I also felt too self-conscious.  I felt a bit too pompous to be honest, so the “flow” stopped flowing.

Or sometimes when I’m trying to do what I “should” do and am “supposed to” be doing while at home, my mind starts spilling essays out on various subjects and I think to myself, “I need to explore this.  I need to write this out”.  But when I sit down in front of the computer to begin, I suddenly feel quite tired.  I feel fatigued even before I start and I feel as if I simply don’t have the energy anymore, or the time, and my mind automatically goes to guilt about all the other things I “need” to and “should” be doing instead at that moment.  Because I know once I start writing I will be at the computer a very, very, very long time.  And that’s when the “flow” slows to a trickle.

And then I start wondering exactly why I feel this need to write?  To put out thoughts for anyone else to read? Where does it come from? I’ve always had it.  I think anyone who has ever been a bookworm probably feels it.  Anyone who has ever loved books, been magnetically drawn to written material, adored libraries, feels like it’s the most natural thing to do – to express oneself outwardly, even if no one else is listening.

But at the same time, writing can feel like the most tortuous thing in the world.  It takes so fucking LONG to get down exactly what you want to say, the point that you are chasing, the connections that you see.  It starts to seem like the biggest task to take on because of ALL THOSE THOUGHTS. Where does one even begin?

When I’m driving, words flowing along, debates being argued, opinions being expressed, stories starting and continuing, questions demanding research, conversations going on, subjects being broached, feelings finding an outlet, is like breathing; it’s almost effortless. And I don’t believe that it is something oh-so-special about me; I know that everyone else in their cars passing me by on the freeway is doing the exact same thing.  I know it’s called “thinking” and it’s not exclusive to myself.  I just don’t know that everyone driving past feels this weird need to write it out.

Anyway, put a pen or pencil in my hand, place a keyboard under my fingers, point me in a certain direction and suddenly, DAMN, this is time-consuming, concentrated, frustrating, self-esteem risking, (did I mention TIME-CONSUMING?) WORK.

And it’s not as if I am work-averse, though outwardly to some I probably seem so; it’s that the work that I would gravitate toward, that I would choose to do, isn’t what others would truly consider work if they were to see me doing it.  And I think that this is what hinders me.  Well, let’s be truthful…..it’s ME and my own thoughts and feelings and fears that hinder me.  BUT it certainly isn’t helpful that the rest of society kinda looks upon any creative or expressive endeavor as a luxury or as a somewhat worthless use of time (until they enjoy that book, or that article, or that painting, or that piece of jewelry, or that photograph, or that play, or that movie, of course…..). It certainly isn’t a JOB.   They don’t realize – or rather, they aren’t really aware – that it takes dedication, work, and time; and lots of it.

And I think that I have now digressed into different territory than simply the issue of driving while having ideas….

I can’t remember which writer said it, but I will paraphrase here:  “I don’t know what I think until I write it down”.

I guess that’s one of the main motivations of writing.  Trying to figure out what you think about this increasingly stressful, yet beautiful, world.  It might not matter to anyone else, but it is an inherently natural, and important, thing to do for yourself.   And, yes….it is WORK.