IF YOU WANT TO BE A WRITER, WHY NOT WRITE
WHO WRITES AND WHY
When you write, why do you write? Is it a life-long passion? A professional obligation? A personal journal that only you read? A way to communicate with distant friends?
Or do you resist writing because, after all, you are not “a writer?” Or so you believe.
I fell into that last category for many years, willing to write academic papers for college and professional pieces for my job, but to face a blank page with the idea of creative writing brought shivers to my quaking hand.
So, how did I move beyond my resistance and start a blog?
BIRTHING OF YOUR ‘LITTLE DARLINGS’
Steven Pressfield, in The War of Art, says, “Defeating resistance is like giving birth.” I won’t ask how he knows, but any mother can tell you that hours of labor genuinely suck.
No one in their right mind would choose that pain. But, in the end, you get to cradle new life and realize, “Hey – I did that! I delivered a living, breathing human being!
After a long, excruciating labor, I delivered my first blog post. It reminded me of holding my new, pink, slightly premature son, body all wet and wrinkled, his head as bald as an old Trappist monk and lungs screaming for attention.
One thing we expect of a newborn is messes. A lot of them. Those messes create a billion-dollar industry with disposable diapers, wipes and gentle soap.
I looked down at my newborn son’s face, a bony, rashy face ‘only a mother could love’ and wept for the miracle of his life. He was perfect in my eyes!
I did not have the same reaction when I delivered my first blog post. My motherly instinct became more like a temperamental headmistress in a boarding school for wayward children.
“Out of my way! Look what you’ve done! Now I have a big mess to clean up!”
To cradle a newly written article with tenderness and grace did not come naturally. It is still awkward. I kill many newly hatched ideas before they ever take a breath.
EARLY WRITERS
I think about the very first writers, driven to tell stories by carving them on cave walls. Did perfection haunt them?
“No, Dear. It would be best if you didn’t put a rabbit beside a mastodon. That’s not how it happened. And your construction doesn’t work.”
Do you suppose if I got rid of my laptop and invested in a set of chisels, I might find the freedom to write whatever I want without some ‘rule’ about commas and parallel construction?
To tell a complete story in those days must have taken months instead of hours. Talk about a spiritual practice of patience, focus, and presence!
Because I do not live in a cave in prehistoric times, I cannot say why they felt driven to record stories. It may be the same reason they reproduced.
Now that is a scary thought!
What if we who struggle to get words onto a piece of paper are responding to a primitive biological drive?
No wonder Pressfield compares creative acts to childbirth, complete with painful labor to bring them forth. The ecstacy of conception notwithstanding!
OVERDUE WRITERS
Continuing with the metaphor, I can only imagine how many ‘overdue’ writers carry the weight of their ideas, memoirs, or poetry instead of birthing them for the world to behold.
We are held back by images of wrinkly, bawling, demanding creations. The truth is, it is not our poems and essays that scare us. They are beautiful, undeveloped creatures, bearing our image, and we tend them lovingly.
It is more likely editors, publishers, and readers who frighten us the most and hold us back from delivering our embryonic creations. Then we become ‘helicopter’ moms and dads. Hovering, watching, editing – generally doing everything we can to protect our darlings from those we fear are bullies.
I can’t speak for you, but my biggest’ bully’ by far is my inner critic. Street gangs are wimps compared to the voices in my head.
“This is crap. No one wants to read about what you think. Give it up and go back to fiddling.”
To push my ‘creative darlings’ out to be punished by a critic – inner or outer – seems cruel.
I bet there are enough ‘over-due’ writers in the world to start a movement. Any idea what to call it?
In the meantime, there is a gathering place for those with tiny tales waiting to be told. Call it a playground for creativity. A safe place to let your ideas run around and connect with others and grow healthy and strong. Check it out now at MEMOIR COLLECTIVE – A GROUP FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE WITH STORIES TO SHARE
MORE ARTICLE ABOUT WRITING YOU MAY ENJOY
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[Photo credits from Unsplash: Writing child by Susana Coutinho; Newborn by Jill Sauve; Cave art by Rob Tol; Overdue by Arteida-Mjeshtri
