to explain something that I haven't quite figured out myself, but here is my attempt to do just that.
In 2011 and 2012, I was FULLY on board and participating in the blogging world. I embraced words and held them tight. Writing was easy and fun and completely how I identified myself. "I'm a writer!" That was my declaration. I was excited and enthusiastic. I couldn't wait to be published and hold one of my precious babies/books in my hands. I read blog posts and participated in anything and everything writing related that I possibly could. I surrounded myself with like-minded individuals and I felt a part of something huge! Something bigger than myself.
Now, four short years later I find myself somewhat alone and struggling to find the right words. Actually, to find the right words for anything. I almost feel as though my well of creativity has dried up. Blogging seems like such a painful chore. Trying to write on my work in progress is taxing and brings with it it's own problems of self-doubt, struggles, and fears. Where I used to kick out words and sentences and pages in one sitting without issues--because I simply used a flow of words to paint the picture I was seeing in my head--now has become nearly impossible. I can spend hours writing one paragraph. I fret over each and every word. Is it right? Is this direction I want to go? Let's rewrite it and try again and again and again.
Because I'm finding it difficult to silence my internal editor and write freely, the very idea of sitting down to write on my work in progress has become all together unpleasant. So I avoid it. I avoid it a lot.
And that's not fair to you, my readers, my fans, those who have been SO supportive over the past several years, reading everything I put out and asking for more.
My silence about what I'm going through, creatively, isn't fair to you.
That's why I'm writing this post.
I want you to know where I am and what's going on.
The little voices that were once so very loud in my head, refusing to let me do anything but write their story, have seemed to fall silent. It's a little scary, especially for a person who has ALWAYS heard the little voices for as long I can possibly remember. I miss my imaginary friends. I miss them a lot.
But I want you to know that I'm trying to entice them back. I really am. Last weekend, I went away on a much needed writing trip with a very good friend of mine. We talked. We discussed stories and ideas and plots. We even wrote a little (not a lot, but enough to feel as though progress is being made).
And that's the key words--PROGRESS IS BEING MADE.
I'm trying to make writing fun again and remember those days when my head wasn't filled with so much doubt that it paralyzes me into doing nothing. I need to trust my intuition again.
I just want to let you know that I'm working on it. I don't want to let anyone down, but I also know that I need to feel that what I'm writing is the best I can possibly do. I don't feel that in this moment.
Until then, I will keep working through these creative issues and find my way once again. I am a writer. I can't imagine a time when I can't say that. I know this is temporary and that it will get better.
I just hope you can be patient with me a little longer.