I question every word; I write 'the' and immediately feel scorn. It's such an ordinary word - everybody uses it - why can't I come up with something original? In the sunlight, every single word seems hackneyed.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Words are a pretty blunt instrument. There's always going to be slippage between the words and the infinite complexities of a thought. As a writer, I find that frustrating, but as a social animal, I wouldn't have it any other way.
I do worry that it's impossible to write something original, that there's nothing that a human hasn't already thought of. But I can put it out of my mind and get on with what I'm doing.
To be honest, I struggle with words. I often forget them, you know, the official ones. Instead, I make words up. I use home-made words that sound similar to the real thing. Usually, they're some sort of confused hybrid of two existing words.
If words are doing their job, then their novelty will not be the most noticeable thing about them.
I've learned never to try and force words to come.
In the afternoon, it's impossible to put down any new words. I don't even try.
I used to like the word of the day and when I read, highlight words that I didn't know and look them up.
The words that come direct from the people are the greatest... If you substitute one out of your own vocabulary, it disappears before your eyes.
Words derive their power from the original word.
When I write something, every word of it is meant. I can't say it enough.