In between frequent bouts of despondency and anger, my brain seems to bombard me with a barrage of thoughts and ideas. This in itself not so much a problem, the problem is that they either come so thick and fast that i am unable to write them down before they are lost in the ether or they come at a time when i am unable to record them at all.
If only someone would invent a brain dictaphone that i could just plug directly into my brain so when I feel these storm of ideas approaching I could just switch it on and prepare to expand on the stuff that comes through, happily knowing that it would all be recorded for future reference.
I've always seen my path as that of a writer. I mean, I've walked down many career paths over the years and either failed or grown bored with each one. The problem is that I write without rhyme or reason, without continuity or structure. I can never seem to finish anything. I mean, I have written volumes of crappy angst ridden poetry, heaps of half finished novels and a multitude of manifestos and opinion pieces, but i seem to lack the ability to combine these efforts into some sort of organised publishable work.
I can see no solution to this problem. Many years ago a friend said to me that if I ever wrote anything, she would happily be my editor. Maybe that's what I need. A third person to peruse through the pages and pages of disjointed musings in order to form one cumulative work or maybe I am destined to suffer the curse of many other past writers. That is, for my works to be discovered, published, then studied hundreds of years after my death.
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