That doesn't mean that I don't labor over what I write and perseverate over re-writing or storm and stress and strain over what I do.
But somehow I've learned along the way to trust myself and my output. That no matter how flawed words written are, they are light-years better than words un-writ. In other words, I've learned to treat the writing I have to do with a Nike-like attitude. I believe it is better to just do it.
This morning, however, I am feeling a bit intimidated by this space.
It's because I've been reading Updike. Specifically some of his "Olinger Stories."
Then a wise friend pointed me in the direction of a story he published in "The New Yorker" back during the summer of 2003.
It's called, "The Walk with Elizanne."
Reading it is a punch in the face.
Updike can put a novel's worth if information into a sentence. And along the way, if you fancy yourself a writer, he can make you feel like shit.
Like running against Usain Bolt.
Of course, I can make all kinds of excuses and arrive at all sorts of rationales. Updike doesn't have to write about artificial intelligence and technology systems. He's not on deadline and most-often is not inhibited by demands of space and time.
I will try to be better.