Reasons why not
My mind is a house full of rooms and in every room, there is someone who is waiting to have their story told. They're all there, waiting quietly, expectantly, for me to let them out but I can't seem to find the proper key.
It's easy to blame it on time, or lack thereof. It's easy to say I'm tired or I can do it tomorrow. It's easy to watch TV or read a book or blogsurf. It's easy to ignore that small voice saying write, write, the one that won't let me have any peace. The one that only gets quiet when I'm doing what it wants me to do. I know I shouldn't fight it, can't fight it.
The truth is, I'm afraid. Afraid to get into it, afraid to turn over the stone and see what's crawling around in the dirt beneath. Afraid that I won't like what I find or worse, that I'll find nothing at all. I can see the words, twisting around in the dark places, looking for a way out. Waiting for me to set them free. The flood is coming, I can feel it. The well is full, the dam is straining at the seams. All I can do now is move out of the way and wait for the wave to hit.
It's easy to blame it on time, or lack thereof. It's easy to say I'm tired or I can do it tomorrow. It's easy to watch TV or read a book or blogsurf. It's easy to ignore that small voice saying write, write, the one that won't let me have any peace. The one that only gets quiet when I'm doing what it wants me to do. I know I shouldn't fight it, can't fight it.
The truth is, I'm afraid. Afraid to get into it, afraid to turn over the stone and see what's crawling around in the dirt beneath. Afraid that I won't like what I find or worse, that I'll find nothing at all. I can see the words, twisting around in the dark places, looking for a way out. Waiting for me to set them free. The flood is coming, I can feel it. The well is full, the dam is straining at the seams. All I can do now is move out of the way and wait for the wave to hit.
posted by writingblind at 10:23 AM
2 Comments:
I woke up this morning at 2:45 and could not fall back to sleep again. My brain was saying, "Seriously, bitch -- it's time to get to work. Stop avoiding all this and just do it."
My writing mind swears at me when I don't go deep into my subject. Isn't that awful?
Good luck with your stubbornness. I can totally relate to your struggle.
I think you should relish the feeling that you have a lot to say, a lot of material. It’s a lot better than those inevitable dry periods all writers have from time to time. I say start writing what those voices say while they are insistent. As for not liking what you may write or maybe not liking what you learn about yourself, you can always revise or trash what you wrote, and your subconscious is your subconscious. It’s a part of you that you don’t have conscious control over. It’s like blaming yourself for having unpleasant dreams.
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