On Writing

Currently, it’s Tuesday afternoon, and I feel the impending doom of not having chosen and already gotten my blog post up and scheduled for a release for tomorrow… as if a school project is looming over me from too much procrastinating. However, this deadline is chosen and self-imposed because it’s a way for me to learn, grow, be my tenacious self, grapple with life, engage both my old and new journals, tell stories of life experiences and observations, and face the fact that I am a writer. Even though I’ve never published anything for money and I actually wrote a paper for a graduate class 24 years ago arguing that I wasn’t a writer, I am a writer because that’s what feeds my soul.

The interesting thing is… my headspace is better when I write. My observation skills are better when I write. I become more comfortable in my own skin when I write, and I engage more productively with my environment when I write. I have learned, however, that this is not the case for everyone. Many people are perfectly satisfied without writing more than their to-do lists, letters, or required writing for work. They process through their life’s entanglements in so many other ways-like going for a run, a workout, working in a garden, talking with a friend, listening to music etc. Yes, those things help me, but writing for me identifies and settles the beast in my brain and helps me to focus.

Because writing doesn’t pay the bills=not productive for me, I have done quite a bit to denounce its validity and support in my life and the time that my heart wants to give to it. I’ve always done better with a desk and a pencil and paper than when I didn’t have that kind of space… particularly after I got past all the negative-soul-sucking-training from my elementary-college age school years that surrounded and dictated what writing was supposed to be.

This past weekend, after returning from a trip to Indiana, I resettled at home with laundry and other tasks that require attention after being away from home for a week. Scott sacrificed his weekend to help his non-techie wife switch this blog from one platform, Blogger, to another platform, Squarespace. This was a huge accomplishment and engaged a different part of my brain for sure. Thus, my writing that I did do was more focused on processing my environment and life’s situations than on choosing and crafting this week’s blog post.

This weekend also brought to a close one journal and was witness to the beginning of a new journal… which is a bit like saying good-bye and hello at the same time. I decided I would share a decision and a conversation with a blank page from different journal entries of mine on writing. I think the process can be just as important as any final draft.

From June 25, 2018 at 11:50 AM:

I am saying YES to writing which means I’m say NO to many other things.

From August 5, 2018… the first blank page of a new journal that I named “Write Every Day”

I seem to always struggle with blank pages. Where to begin? Do I write in cursive, or shall I print? Do I experiment with a font or settle into my fallback? Do I include the date with or without the day of the week? Shall I write in pen or pencil? Will the marker bleed through to the other page if I use it? Do I start with today, yesterday, or tomorrow? Shall I share my feelings or let them rest for the moment? If I begin with a story from long ago, will I remember enough of the details and the emotion of the time do it justice, and will I have the best words to make that story relevant? Do I really care what others think if they ever end up reading my scribble or is it truly for me and my thought process… my healing? What if I write something that misrepresents someone or a situation? Will I be forgiven? Should I care? What happens when I have too many thoughts, words, ideas for my fingers to keep up with? And what happens when I don’t have enough? How much background do I give to a story or a remembrance ? Where do I begin that doesn’t end up sounding like “Once upon a time”? What structure do I use and how do I bring my style to the structure? What is my style? Does it matter? Will it be revealed? Will what I write have the architectural detail of something old and classic or will it be a reminder of badly constructed buildings of the 1970’s when buildings were slapped together without imagination and portrayed as simple, bland, utility? Or can it actually be something new?

I long to write something both for me to process and remember and to bring deeper meaning to others. Sometimes, often, I wonder what I can possibly bring that has meaning and understanding to others that hasn’t already been said? Then other times, I am overwhelmed with the gift of travel, experience, sadness, joy, loss, gain, and I feel an intensity to share it.

Blank pages - here’s to you! May you be filled and no longer represent anxiety to me. May I learn each day what gets me out of bed. May I write something every day.