Writing About Writing

Writing About Writing

26.04.2019

Someday. Someday I will manage this whole mess of sleeping properly. Today’s progress: I was awake before 10 am. Disadvantage: I did not sleep until about 4 am. Overall sleeping time: could be improved. But I’m getting there. Somehow. Sometimes it’s really hard for me to find the correct words in German, even though German is actually my mother tongue. It seems that my almost exclusive consumption of English media leaves its traces in my brain. Somehow fascinating. Not that I would complain. Somehow it’s entertaining. But that’s why random English terms flow into such texts every now and then, because it’s obviously not about consistency and clarity. But that’s also quite nice. I don’t even have to meet my own demands of perfection here, because I won’t subject these words to another extensive editing phase later on. Otherwise I would probably feel like deleting or rewriting half of it. A few days ago I brought the introductory chapter of my book into its supposedly final form. At the end quite a few pages of the original version fell victim to my need for clarity. With good reason, to be honest. The unstructured nonsense I wrote there a year ago – oh, boy. Some people have already told me that they don’t have such an editing phase at all for their stories or homework. They write a version that is also the final work. I never understood that. Your own word is incredibly strongly influenced by the context in which it was written. Texts that I write with sleep deprivation, under the influence of alcohol, in depressive periods or similar states of mind sound completely different from what a perfectly clear, optimistic-realistic ego would write. If I only ever kept it in one version, I could no longer face myself out of shame at some point. Rightly so. Editing saves lives. Somehow it was like that. And no, it doesn’t distort the original work either, but refines it in the proper parts. Our thoughts change with every second that passes, so it’s only logical that tomorrow we might think differently about what we wrote today. Those who stagnate have long ceased to live. There’s a fly humming at my window. Argh. It’s SO incredibly annoying. I hate something like that. But I don’t want to kill it either, because in one way it’s disgusting and secondly it’ s super unnecessary. It is also not its fault that it accidentally followed the light and flew into my room. To punish it for something it did according to its own instincts doesn’t seem fair to me. So I’ll try later to guide it somehow gently out of my room. Maybe that would be a profession with a future: insect pilot. Quite right with a fancy uniform and a cool flat cap. I would always adjust it professionally and gaze into the distance with a meaningful glance when someone asks me about my job. Then I answer in a calm voice: “Profession? No, my friend. What I do is a true vocation. I save lives”. Sunglasses on. Cut. CSI Miami scream in the background. Please tell me I’m not the only one with such weird thoughts. There must be more people who are obsessed with completely obscure ideas. Or? Or?! Crazy life. I really would not have thought that I would spend several days working through this “morning” ritual of writing. I must confess that I am a little proud of myself. One might still be allowed to say that. One does not have much else. Live and don’t think about tomorrow. Wasn’t that a Bollywood film that was released a few years ago? I seem to remember that I watched it several times as a child. Why does that occur to me right now? I have no idea. My head is confused. Probably another consequence of insomnia. Does anyone still read this at all? Oh, it doesn’t matter either. I haven’t published any of it yet anyway. Joke’s on you. I am so funny, I know. Thank you for asking. Humor is always a question of perspective and at the moment mine is the only relevant one. What an incredibly comfortable position.