“If Juliet Never Died: The Diaries of Hailey Harrison” is kicking my ass. I have it outlined, i know what i want to say; but somehow i just cant say it.
Doesnt that suck? Where are all my other writers? This thing is bugging the bejeezees out of me. I can write sucky, bad, disgracful-to-all-other-writers poetry; but i cannot write the first draft of a play that i am partially living/ Grrr!
The first inclination is there is some reason i do not want to write it. Like a psychosymatic reason that i just cant deal with. The other real, heavy, probably on-point inclination is that i’m just fucking lazy.
(it’s number two)
Well, i guess i will journal out ideas some more until i finally can go in a direction i feel comfortable with. Until then, (in soup nazi voice) more bad poetry for you!
And hopefully sports/music/movie columns.