What happened...
Every year, on this long weekend, I start think about the new year and what it will bring. Or better yet, what I will bring it. This year, I am at a loss. I have been trying all year to figure it out. It's coming. Slowly. But it's coming. I usually do a lot of watching and thinking. What do others do? What do I want to do?
Back to writing. Why did I stop writing? I'm not sure. Maybe it was too much work. Maybe I was trying to make it perfect. Looking for the best writing prompts, that will help get the best of my writing. Most times I feel like I have to write with purpose. That everything I write has a place in the world and will go on to be a part of something bigger than itself.
I do write random shit though. That's the part that doesn't make sense. I write random shit all the time, that surely will go nowhere. Notes from books I have been reading, random quotes, lines that I'd like to remember. But you know what? I don't go back an look at them. I'm on my 4th notebook in my collection (see the time I bought 4 Paul Frank notebooks) and I just started to go back an look through them, a OMG, sometimes I wonder who the heck this person is that wrote in my notebook. I got ambitious, which happens randomly, and I signed up for and PAID for a writing class. It was great. I loved the first class. Had all these feels about writing and getting this stuff out of my head and into the world. But. Of course there's a BUT. I couldn't sustain it. Reading it out loud to my classmates, hearing the silence and imagining the looks I was getting as I read yet another piece about the same subject, again. Yes, that is what I was supposed to be doing. I had finally found a a teacher who could answer my question about the "fluff" and "purpose" I wanted to write about and how to do that. With that came the fear of exposing my thoughts to the world. The daily writing that I wanted to do, was not helping. I let go of perfection. What I didn't let go of was the thought that it had to be part of something. Thoughts still run in my head before I write it down. I feel lazy as I think about it. Lazy because I don't write it down. In the meantime I look for ways to collect the writing and how I can capture it without feeling lazy, feeling purposeful.
Maybe this blog will help. I'm just going to keep writing and not expect anything from.
Hopefully.
Keep writing...
