Is Writing like Shitting?

I’ve been going to as many open mics and poetry readings as possible since I’ve been back.  There is a thriving spoken word community in New York.  A collection of poets beyond the wildest imaginations. And they share their work with one another.  I feel out of place.  I want to talk about words, create and recreate, rehash old works and work on new pieces but writing is lonely.  Private.  I haven’t found balance.  I feel like pushing myself to explore the public realm with my words is like defecating in the living room.  My writing happens when I am alone and furious.  My writing happens when I am alone and giddy.  My writing happens every day, and it happens when I am alone. Is writing like shitting?  Is it a necessary but private part of my life that I need to do to survive and will never quite understand?  Writing might be like shitting for me.  I do it every day.  I recycle what I have digested.  When I take in good things, I feel better later.  I am regular.  Shitting and writing are lonely auspices, but I cannot escape them else I die.  They are similar, but not the same. For instance, I use paper for both, but for very different reasons.


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
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One Response to Is Writing like Shitting?

  1. Andy O. says:

    so wait…now it’s the essentials redefined…


    Got it 🙂

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