Start where you are. Have you heard this statement before? I seem to be hearing it, or at least noticing it around me, often lately. It seems like such simple advice, doesn’t it? Of course, where else would I start (insert snarky tone here)?
Well, it is taken me MONTHS to get back to writing because I’ve been afraid to start from where I was, where I am – to accept myself and my talent and ability as being perfect just as they are.
I like to fantasize about thinking myself into great writing rather than actually writing myself into great writing. I’m very rarely in the mood to write – only about 5% of the time. During this 5% I am struck with (what I think are) great ideas for a piece so I’ll jot them down somewhere or tap them into the notes app in my phone, to inevitably be lost in the “busy-ness” of daily life. Or if I do come back to it, I’ll forget the inspiration and where it was taking me entirely.
I’ve heard that this is a normal process among writers and that all it takes is the discipline to actually sit my ass down and put pen to paper (I’m old-school).
Despite my extreme procrastination, I love to write and adore the whole process; never wanting to do it, sitting down to force myself to do it, letting the words spill out on the page, revising drafts, tweaking words and paragraphs to intensify the perfect sentiment, reading, analyzing, and dissecting sentences, and sometimes not even recognizing my own handiwork because the word seem to come from a source beyond myself.
Is this what it feels like to be a writer? I don’t know, all I know is my own process-however flawed, however spotty, however perfectly imperfect, it all comes down to the fact that I still love to write. It is one of my burning desires and passions in life, which is a miracle in itself (more on that in the future).
In order to pursue growth and to stretch and open my dusty, out-of-practice wings, here I start again, in the ever-present and eternal now.