I’ve had great trouble writing lately, and I think I may have figured out a bit of the cause of it.

The word processor.

My PC makes it easy to read what I’ve written.

So easy, in fact, that it seems that I’m more occupied with what I’ve already said and how it ought to be modified than with how the text ought to proceed.

Instead of writing in the moment, I’m caught between the moments past of my text and the future product.

You’re right if you’re thinking that is precisely where the present moment ought to land, directly between the past and the future.

But that’s not ultimately correct, because the past and the future don’t actually exist, they’re on a theoretical plane, an unprovable abstract reality.  Thus my “present moment” doesn’t exist except on the same theoretical plan.  My “present moment” is simply an idea on an imaginary timeline.

So, as an experiment, I’ve written this on pad and paper.  My enmity for crossing, blotting and tiny carrots deposits me in the concrete present moment.

...and leaves my essay joyfully short.