I haven’t been writing- and I kind of hate myself for it.
I want to blame both writer’s block and my work schedule but that isn’t the truth. For the last month, I been updating the same draft over and over. I’d reread my words, delete paragraphs, rewrite those paragraphs just to do the same thing over again for a few days later. An editor’s notes can be rough but self-editing is literally hell.
I always thought it would come to this point, where I would finally hate my writing. I hate the tone of voice I use for this blog. I hate my lack of vocabulary (even though the dictionary is right there at my finger tips). I learned to hate WordPress. I mostly hate the things I write about. As I reviewing my the #Greeting30 pieces that I’ve written over the years, I feel like a Karen in written form, using my words to bicker and complain about the state of the world and the state of my life. I knew that I wanted to be a professional writer when I was sixteen years old. High school Andrea didn’t want to complain- she wanted to tell the truth about love and politics and and fashion and war and other important issues. She knew how big the world was and wanted to tell everyone who couldn’t explore it about the wonders she experienced.
But I am a writer. It’s one of the few things that I’m good at (it’s probably the only constant thing in my life that I’ve been good at). Despite my current frustrations, writing will always be one of the loves of my life. It does bring me joy and a sense of comfort, whether or not I’m published. As I’ve gotten older, I feel my spoken voice wavers each time I open my mouth. My thoughts and opinions don’t come out as clear as I want them to- I don’t “speak smart,” putting together proper verbal sentence structure (I like to thank my anxiety for that). But I certainly write well- and smartly.
I just need to grin and bear it; dedicate a few hours a day to getting something out… I’m gifting myself the myself the challenge to write at least 300 words a day on this blog. I say, “gifting,” because writing is gift, a gift that own that I often take advantage of. When I write, I can escape temporarily from my current reality. I’m able to connect with myself on deeper level; the parts of me that are not work, my relationships and the fact that I need to vacuum my bedroom.
I’ve been exploring how I can improve the way I write. I want to expand past the complaints and negativity by using writing prompts and diving back into my daily newsfeeds. I want to share myself using an honestly that I’ve always held back due to fear of exposing my true self. I want to write. I need to write.
Anyway, here goes nothing. Here’s to more writing… Fingers and t’s crossed. Enjoy, dear reader.