Little Chunks

Every time I sit down to write, I try and think of something valuable to convey, but it’s challenging. Some days nothing feels right, or it seems like more of the same, boring, no substance, or too negative or too fluffy or too whatever. Then I consider writing about a cherished memory, and I don’t have the emotional reserves or stamina to tackle it, so I shelve it for the memoir. I then google how to write poetry thinking I can experiment with a poem and find a silly poetry generator site. I plug in words and crack up laughing at the poems it comes up with, omg! Then I google blogging prompts and none of them grab me. I then read CGC forums, and Facebook trying to see if a question someone has, or a problem they’re having inspires me to write in response on this blog, nope, lol. Nada. Zip.

Then I think, how are you going to make a living at this when you can’t even come up with stuff to write about? I feel that imposter syndrome coming on. I then review the past week and how hit and miss it’s been with my progress and productivity. There’s so much to learn and so much I’m interested in that I sometimes lose the thread, going off on curious tangents, a little bit of this and that. Before you know it the week’s gone by and I’ve made lots of progress, but it’s little chunks across many things. I tell myself it’s better than nothing! I vow to focus on fewer items over the next week so I can get larger sections of priority projects completed.

Part of the reason for my piecemeal progress has to do with listening to my body and conserving my energy. I can’t go hard and fast, I have to be gentle and pace myself. I took naps most days this week, I had to. I also spent more time reading and learning as opposed to creating. I engaged in more passive activities where I didn’t need a lot of brain bandwidth because mine was sluggish. I was tempted to get some coffee to try and clear the fog but decided to stay strong and continue my caffeine purging experiment. I have six servings of caffeinated tea left and then I’ll be caffeine-free.

I look over at my list on the wall of activities to progress me towards my goals and I laugh because it’s a lot, but it’s fun to have so much to choose from, I feel rich! What I really desire is some tangible progress. I want to fully complete a project and it’s never moving quickly enough for me. I’m ready for everything to begin clicking and flowing. Yet I know it takes time and practice for it to happen. I know this from singing opera, being in musicals/operas/chorus lines, learning violin, piano, drawing, painting, and guitar or starting IV’s…it takes dedication, discipline, repetition, and practice until it clicks, it becomes a skill, a habit, you begin to master it.

That’s why I sit here and blog every day, so I’ll improve and eventually become a master. I’m also reading about writing and participating in a group about writing and doing writing exercises too. The next lesson in One Year to a Writing Life is a short story! That should be really interesting and fun! It’s so helpful to connect and commiserate with other writers to know that I’m not alone in my challenges and we’re all mucking about at the beginning. That’s how it usually is when you begin any new endeavor. There’s no short cut, you suffer through it until it gets easier. It’s difficult at first, but oh how satisfying when you get skillful and succeed. When you sing the aria perfectly where the audience is moved to tears, or write that impactful, brilliant story that changes someone’s mind for the better. Epic.

So even though I don’t have anything inspiring to write about, I just do it. I write for the practice, so it will get easier and eventually, there will be more flow, it will begin to click and maybe I won’t create a masterpiece, but at least I will be proficient and will have explored to my heart’s content. I’ll have a useful, enjoyable skill in my tool kit.

I’m reading On Writing by Stephen King and it’s a hoot so far. I love reading and would love to become a good writer so I can give back after all of the joy I’ve experienced throughout my life from being transported away in books. I would love to spread joy and make a positive impact through my writing. Writing is meaningful, purposeful, and joyful for me.

So I write.

Love and hugs