Over the past the past six months, I have desired to write more. Starting this blog was one avenue to write on a consistent basis. I don't really care about people reading (well, that is a lie).
Communication is important, and there are many different mediums. For instance, it is a life-dream of mine to write a screenplay. I would like it to be made into a movie, but I am realistic about those chances. Still, writing a screenplay swirls in the back of my mind.
I also think it would be cool to write a novel. I appreciate the abilities of Lewis, Tolkien, and Rowling to weave a world with their words (how about that for alliteration; I didn't even edit that for style!). However, I do not think I have the mental fortitude to tell a story worth telling. There is nothing I could say that hasn't been said already. (I have a theory that whenever I have a thought I should search C.S. Lewis' writings first. [Related post about this])
If I were to start writing more seriously (I mean, how serious is blogging, right?), than I would want to be an essayist. Not only is that more romantic than saying, "I'm a writer," but who does it anymore? Emerson? Lewis? Twain? I'm sure there are fascinating essayists out there. I suppose I haven't heard about them because they aren't dead yet. That is an interesting thought to consider: what's going to happen to people's blogs when they die? Will college students of the future be required to read Blog Anthology of 21st Century, Vols. 1-1,000? It would probably be something else I never read in college.
I promise I have a point with this post. I was thinking about writing this morning and a conversation happened in my head (no, I didn't hear voices). The conversation began, "What do you do?" This of course made me think of Office Space. Please be advised that the video below does contain profanities; it's still funny though.