I don't like starting to write. Once I get going, smooth sailing, but my beginnings always feel so awkward and forced. Is it that I can't wait to get going, or that I'm afraid? Whatever the reason, the result seems to be the same. Were I to sit down and begin a novel, I would need to start on Chapter 2 to even hope for a decent intro. ... My favorite literary opening is that of Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. She just.. nails it. It is her Genesis to a true masterpiece.
I can't believe I just made a Biblical allusion. Thank you, AP Lit!
Anyways. This is supposed to be my more grown-up LiveJournal. While, certainly, adults can be pretentious, I would prefer not to classify myself as an adult just yet. I'd like to think of myself as too idealistic to be a "grown-up." Thus this should be an unpretentious, though serious and thought-filled, blog of sorts. Without writing, I have nothing by my smile and frown to convey my thoughts.
So here's something to start off the right way... or at all. Excuse my disjointed, rusty writing and hope it will improve over time. I took this lovely quote from a recent news article about a severed hand found in the home of an exotic dancer, along with a collection of human skulls. Here's the chick's mother's take:
"She has a flair for the dramatic," Patricia Ann Kay said. "I have never tried to stop my children from doing whatever they want. As long as they are happy, aren't hurting anyone, and it's keeping them out of the poor house."
Perhaps writing will keep me out of the poor house. Preferable to stripping.