Something
notes from the overdraft #20
Just heard an advert on the radio that said:
“It may be mid-Winter, but there’s nothing mid about some of our special offers!”
And I’m sat here wondering if I’m competent enough of a writer to post something on Substack.
Kill Save me.
Come on fella, my brain whispers to me, write something.
People keep asking if I’ve ‘eased’ back into writing.
I haven’t. Maybe ‘hurried’? Maybe ‘plummeted?’
But, I have been thinking. Constantly.
Which is arguably worse?
Thinking is writing’s unemployed cousin. It turns up late, eats all your food, and then bolts out the door, leaving no evidence of having been there.
What I do have:
257 Notes app entries titled “idea”
12.5 sort-of-written emails (I will literally never send)
A voice note to myself that says “NEW IDEA FOR LATER” and then it’s just 6 minutes of traffic noise
None of this counts.
But it feels like it should.
There’s a specific lie you tell yourself when you’re not publishing anything.
It goes something like:
“You’re just letting things gestate darling.”
Nothing is gestating.
It’s rotting, quietly, in a dusty folder somewhere.
The thing about not posting frequently is that time doesn’t pause out of politeness.
Nobody says:
“Fair play to the lad! He’s just been having a much-needed think!”
They just assume you’ve:
stopped
found a new hobby
got an actual job
died
What actually happens is this:
You convince yourself that the next thing has to be better than the last thing.
Which means the next thing will never arrive.
Perfectionism is just procrastinating while wearing glasses and a cardigan in a hipster café.
January makes this worse.
January fucking loves a performance review.
Suddenly, every thought has to justify the previous twelve months.
You can’t just write something mildly funny.
It has to mean something.
When it really doesn’t.
It just has to exist.
So this is me not easing back in.
No arc.
No lesson.
No promise.
Just typing something, finishing it, and sending it into the world before my brain gets too involved.
Which, historically, is when things go best.
This Substack is called Writ Nowt after all.
Because the least I could write about is the fact that I have indeed, writ nowt.
More soon.
(That’s not a threat. Just a possibility.)
This was funny. Thank you!
Apparently boredom is the best thing for creativity. Taking time to stare out of the window is supposed to be good for you - not thinking must get you thinking …