I'm maybe exaggerating this in my mind, but it seems that only when I don't have an actual life that I'm capable of writing about...life. I can write about everything that ever happened to me, when nothing is happening, as soon as something happens I can't write about it, and that is when I really need to write. Maybe I'm just not focused enough yet, I don't know. I just wonder if I go out and intend on having a normal life how much I would create compared to occasionally living but mostly burying myself in writing. Anyone else feel they have an Emily Dickinson sorta complex?
I know exactly what you mean. It seems that my life goes in cycles. During the first half a million things are all happening at once; life is crazy, grand, beautiful, infinitly interesting...but I can't write a word. Then everything calms down and I spend months writing. Of course...I'm Bipolar...and so was Emily Dickenson (At least...it is now speculated that she was). She also kept a pet owl in her pocket. I want a pet owl!
