Saturday, January 19, 2019

To Write or Not to Write, That is the Quest


There is so much earthshaking news coming at us every day in so many ways from so many places, that it might just be simpler to list the venues around the globe not rattling our already jaded sensibilities with new fresh hells. 

I don’t know about you, but I’m numbed by it all. So much so, that I can’t bring myself to pick and choose among the multitude of potential topics that I might have a go at today.

Instead, I thought I’d step back and muse about what I think keeps we writers coming back to the blank page, hammering away at creating what we hope others will read…and even appreciate.

But rather than simply rambling on with my musings, I thought it might be more interesting to borrow from the iconic template of literature’s best-known muser (is that a word, Zoë?). So, with apologizes to the Bard, here goes:

JEFFREY: To write, or not to write--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
In despair at writing’s outrageous fortune
Or to take pens against our shared troubles
And by exposing end them. To fly, to leap--
To soar—or do we creep away to end
The headache, and the thousand natural blocks
That publish is heir to. 'Tis a consternation
Devoutly to be wished on others.  Weep--
Perchance even scream: But at the very nub
Of a possible death to the dream of some
Is why we suffer at this mortal toil.
Let us pause. There's the respect
That is the balm to a long writing life.
For who would bear the ups and downs of time,
Th' reviewer's wrong and downright contumely,
The pangs of edited work, the pub delay,
The insolence of the press, and its spurns
Showing patient merit worthy of a saint,
When he or she might quiet exit take
To make a living?  Who would deadlines bear,
To grunt and sweat a solitary life,
But that the dread of giving no more breadth
To all those undiscovered thoughts that churn
Our traveling minds, and puzzle our will,
Would make us far more ill by half
Than denying readers what they know not of?
Dedication makes writers of us all,
And a simpler life of remuneration
Is sacrificed to one of words and thought.
Any enterprise giving pitch and moment
To our words, even if currently awry,
We can’t lose in the name of no action.  
So now fair Colleagues, aim for horizons,
With work to be remembered.



  1. Oooooooo. Such a way with words. Thank you for musing.

    1. Thank, Carol. It keeps me from more constructive tasks, like planning murders.

  2. But soft, what light through yonder MS Window breaks?
    It is the east, and Jeff is the sun.
    Arise sun, and light our Saturday's dawn,
    Help us who are sick , and pale with grief,
    With musings to distract and make us smile.

    1. Sweet sentiments, but don't you think he'd be a MAC man? Juliet certainly would be...or not the two be?

  3. Why did Shakespeare have really quiet kids? Because Anne Hathaway with the children!

    I'll get my coat..

  4. From the way you handle EvKa, you're not so bad yourself. As for the coat part, you can get it if you like, but please don't make like a tree and leave...