The End Of The Written Word

One thing I really resent about myself these days is the lack of drive to write. Back in the day, I’d write about all sorts. Transformers stories as a child, mildly smutty fiction as a teen, my (very early in life) memoirs at University and numerous articles and features in my early 20s.

But nowadays – nothing. The lure of Twitter, abbreviating everything to 140 characters has taken over my life and I now struggle to motivate myself to write any more than that.

So, what am I going to do about it? I need to find that writing spark. I used to know where that inspiration lay, but now I’m not so sure. It seems to be buried deep inside somewhere, trapped in Lethargy Town, somewhere between Laziness Lane and Can’t Be Bothered Boulevard.

So, time to be inspired. Time to read myself. A good book, taking time out for myself. Time to do a bit of self-rediscovery. Let’s hope it works.

2 thoughts on “The End Of The Written Word

  1. I’m sure you will find some inner inspiration. your little post created this silly thing form me. In the darkness beneth my sole, runs a river dark, from this hollow does seem to bellow the steam of some forgotten rot. now i fine it rising up to the place where things where ones so right. in this land I now do find my only missing sock.

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