a voice from the past

Looking through some old writing, I found some really old writing. It's dated Sept. 4, 2000 and I wrote it on my laptop, sitting on the porch of the barn in Lexington. I was writing a lot back then. I was heavily involved in working on The Ballad of Larry the Flyer. Amy and I had just gotten back together for the last time. The file is called "i know about writing":

Things I know about writing.

Writing isn't mystical or magical -- it's putting words down on paper.

The more you do it the easier it gets.

Rewriting is more important than the initial impulse to get what you MEAN down on paper.

The thing you are writing is more important than your ego.

Action and specific characterization are what capture the interest and hold interest through the course of the play.

When you write about something that means something to you, it shows in the quality of the writing.

You can't write about ideas. You can write something that embodies those ideas.

Your worst "enemy" when writing is your own head.

Be specific.

Be more specific.

Writing reflects the state of your mind -- the structure your create on paper is a mirror of the thought structure in your head.

Execution fills an idea with worth -- an idea is not good or bad.

Why you're writing isn't as important as the fact of writing.

I'm not saying it's earth shattering, or life changing stuff. It's just a reminder that I used to think, and cared to think a lot, about something that I've let get away from me. And I think some of what I wrote is worth thinking about now.

meant

I was going to write about the Red Sox today and how watching a team struggle and win such a monumental championship (length of season, number of games, etc.) stirs the desire to do something difficult; to dig in the dirt with both hands and keep going until something is unearthed.

But I'm suddenly struck with the overwhelming feeling that there is a lot going on between people that I just don't get. There seems to be a whole other level of interactivity and friendship that I am locked out of. I don't know if I'm interested in explaining this, perhaps for fear of it being made clear that this is simple paranoia and feeling sorry for myself. But I certainly have a history of pulling back from groups and people and watching on the sidelines while I think about all the things that I could be doing and then beating myself over the head with them. Ah, yes, the self-hatred is in full bloom today. Back to work for now.

CARLOS

Some people like boxes. They like to describe the specific parameters and texture and weight of materials so they know what it will feel like to push against the walls and to feel them pushing back, chafing against their skin. They like to climb into them and pull the flaps over them, blocking their view. Some people like to shove everyone else in boxes they've created for them. They keep everyone in confined spaces, make them easy to get around, and to handle. Some people just don't want to live anymore, I'm telling you. They're too fucking afraid.

destroyer of worlds!

I don't want to be that guy who is overly critical and tears down other peoples' work and ideas because he's frustrated in his inability to step up and create anything himself.

I feel like I'm waiting for permission to do what I want to do. How stupid is that?