on writing

Yesterday Wil Wheaton wrote the following in a blogpost: "I want to be a writer with a capital W, though, and it drives me crazy that I can't just make something up and take a reader on a journey through someone else's life the way I do with my own."

That reminded me of something: I want to write fiction, but I can't. I can make a story out of anything. Something remotely amusing that happened to me - I can tell it to you in a way that can make you roll on the floor laughing. Seriously. I just seem to be unable to invent stories, characters. I've occasionally been so lucky to have a fleeting idea, but if I actually sit down to write, create - nothing comes. The muses don't exactly knock on my door on a daily basis.

I've spent a lot of time writing poetry, even good poetry, and a couple of short stories. I know I can write. I know my way with words. Really well, as a matter of fact. But what use is it to me if I can't create anything longer than a page for lack of content?