Filling the well

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. ~Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway was right. I write a lot of informal essays and each one is like taking a sharp razor and slicing my soul open.

I am ignoring my soul.

Part of it is fear. The other part is insecurity. If I avoid the words, then I can ignore all the things about the words that frighten me.

I’m working hard. Too hard. Which means I am not writing.

My soul, the one that bleeds the words, is dry.

And I am not sure how to fill the well within.

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