Writing Sandwiches

I have had this little spell away from it and now that I’m back I’m incapable of writing. Incapable. Have had? Now that I’m back? That first sentence doesn’t even make sense. I’m right, I can’t write. I had some time away from writing, and now, with this attempt to write, I find myself incapable. I think that’s better. But I haven’t been totally away from writing. I’ve tried to add to my existing stories. And I’ve messaged on my phone. That’s a writing. And I’ve written emails at work. And I’ve written reports. Struggled writing reports.

A period of time has passed since I last liked what I wrote. No. Weeks have gone by since I last felt able to write fluently. Ah, wait, this is it: It has been weeks since I was last able to write without thinking. That’s it. That is it. Writing without thinking is the, no, that–

If I think when I write, I doubt. If I have to force myself to find words, it’s excruciating. But what if that’s necessary. As in: what if my thoughtless writing is atrocious. What if my questioned writing is better? Those are similar sentences, just using the opposite angle, you don’t need both.

I’m both including and hiding the mistakes I’ve been making in writing this. The hidden ones are too embarrassing to include. Like, I originally wrote “a period of time has past”... Past! My mind.

My eyes have been stinging for a while. My fingers feel disassociated from my.

I sigh and I rub my eyes. I rub the bridge of my nose with thumb and forefinger. I wonder how to save myself.

What is the mental foundation for sound writing? Like, it doesn’t even have to be great. Just understandable. So many nonsensical sentences. Sensible tenses. Sensual tents.

I’m reading a book at the moment called Anagrams. Is the writing in that book intimidating me? It’s so good. Lorrie Moore is so good at writing.

Writing is intimidating. No, writing well is intimidating. No. Writing is intimidating. Putting words together. Inventing meaning. Finding meaning. Just plain making sense. I played a game (for seven seconds) the other day in which I swapped the sounds of letters around. Like t would now have the sound of i. W to r. S to d. What if ‘Ejsy og yjod qrsmy’ meant ‘what if this meant’?

Evocation. Evocative. Writing evocatively. Vacate. I’m just writing to loosen myself now. Rework those muscles. Refind a rhythm. I think I’m getting closer now though actually. Now though actually. Too many words. But I’m getting there. Now though actually. So unnecessary. I can feel my consciousness tiptoeing around that river in my mind that writes. That little thinking space that curves around this part of the brain. No, the mind. No, the brain. Is it physical or imagined? No, not imagined. But not physical. It’s that tangibility that’s between both of those realms. I’m getting there. I’m getting there.

Keep on going, Sam. That’s silly. No, don’t lose it now. It’s like fishing. I’m trying to reel in the sentences. These words are swimming around in this - I’ve already used river, use something else - lake. And I need to catch the words. I want some words and I want them to be ones that fit together. Maybe it’s not just fishing. No, it isn’t. It’s also…. Sandwich making. Yes, I’ve got it.

When I write sentences, I’m making a sandwich. Each word is a different part of the sandwich. And to find the right filling you have to go fishing. You go fishing, spot that fish, or eel, or boot. You fish it out of the lake. You take it to the sandwich and add it in there. And you keep making these different sandwiches - and they have to be different. Too many ham sandwiches bore the world - until you have a banquet. You make your ham sandwiches, and your tuna, and your egg and cress and feta cheese. And sometimes you make a crazy one. You make a sandwich that has onion and pickle and a tiny spoon of yoghurt. Wow! You add that to the banquet just to see how it’ll react amongst the rest. And once you have all these sandwiches, once you have your banquet, you say okay, dinner is served, you can come eat now. Maybe one day there’s not much you can fish. Maybe even the lake is drying up. But if you turn up with your rod, you’ll find something. Maybe you can hook a cloud. Maybe you find yourself reeling in a new solid piece of air. Marvellous. Go fishing, make your sandwich, announce a banquet, feed our guests.

Right, okay, I see it now. Bon appetit. I’m going to prepare the next meal…

[12.10.2023]