Even when we have a million drafts already in progress and we know we should focus our energy on completing what we’ve already started, sometimes what we really need is a new beginning. We need different things at different times in our lives, and the same is true for our writing practice. To box ourselves into one mold or form of writing can be constricting and defeat the purpose of writing in the first place.
I often feel the need to spend several days and sometimes a week or more laboring over a piece of writing. I don’t want to present anything that misrepresents me as a writer, as a person, or that makes me come across as careless. Yet, my life is messy at times, and sometimes my head is a mess as a result. My life circumstances shape the need for me to write impulsively. Other times, my life comes together more cohesively, paving way for a more organized thought process. During these times, I have the luxury of slowing down and drawing a piece of writing out over a longer period of time.
Yet, time after time, I try to box myself into an idea that I have of who I want to be as a person and as a writer. The end result: I lose interest in a piece that has magnificent potential. Or, I feel so intimidated by the magnitude of the expectation that I have set for a piece that I can’t progress forward with it. What does all of my fussing and trying to make it all turn out immaculately polished do for me as a writer? Nothing. Often it makes me lose inspiration for writing altogether. This happens because I’m not paying to attention to where I’m at as a human being. Writing needs and human needs go hand in hand.
When it all comes down to it, what are we trying to accomplish with our writing? For me it’s an honest recording of what life is like, with all of its beauty, pitfalls, mishaps, realizations, and mess-ups. Also, it is to connect with others and to garner some comfort in the fact that others are also going through this crazy experience called Life. Sometimes with the process of trying to accomplish this, comes the need to let go and be okay with sounding disorganized and impulsive. This is part of the process of life and of writing. Why would we only want to honor the most polished perfect versions of either? Of course they look pretty, but do they accurately represent how it really is?
P.S. The horse drawing was illustrated by my daughter. It epitomizes the way that I feel when I’m allowing myself to be impulsive. It was also added to this post on an impulsive whim.