I am a sucky writer.
Here's why, in the form of a metaphor.
Good writers, good speakers, or just good talkers in general, have a flow of words.
Constant. Like a river.
We all have rivers. But all rivers are different.
Some are small, some are full of twists and turns, some are huge and raging.
Mine is blocked. With big rocks.
Some thoughts make it out, dripping through the tiny spaces, but not enough to be get the whole, big idea out into the open.
The thing is, my river is also at a slant. And sometimes, I mean very rarely, there is a landslide.
It usually happens in the late afternoon or night, right after I've read or watched or heard something that managed to inspire me.
But that's it.
Maybe if I wait long enough, dwelling on the same idea for a long time, forcing it out, it will drip past the rocks.
But not fast enough for anyone to care. Especially when I'm speaking.
I tend to speak in fragments.
Unless I'm deep in conversation with one of my two best friends. It's a bit easier then, but it's still not enough.
Not enough to be worth someones time.
It's works the same with writing.
Writing is, of course, easier than speaking. But it's still so hard to say exactly what I want to say.
Because of those god damn metaphorical rocks.
