My Recent Daring & Defiant Return to Writing Years Later
Writing is like a muscle. It's been several years since I have committed myself to write alone with the act of writing. And that's okay.
Writing is like a muscle.
Our drive and confidence can sometimes fade when not exercising that muscle.
The fear of losing one’s ability to articulate our thoughts in the written word grows. Some argue that frequent well-done writing can never be obtained if not exercised and is not worth attempting. Yes, a few famous and well-regarded writers have stated as much. I hope to prove their theory wrong.
It’s been several years since I have committed myself to writing alone with the act of writing itself.
After a long, long, long time of starting and stopping, I now feel ready to commit myself to taking this journey again into the beautiful void where only words can replace its space. Not any words, but my words.
I began writing by journaling my thoughts and writing poetry in Mead spiral-bound notebooks when I entered my teenage years. There was a time when I even attempted to write a story called “The Adventure Boys.” I often fantasized about film versions of my story but never completed the whole novel.
Unprovoked by any teacher or would-be mentor, I wrote a few short stories in middle school but never dared to share them. Time, I never considered myself a writer. I read because I needed to and, most often, not because I wanted to read. I wanted to believe I was an artist, but I felt the truth was I was expressing my angst.
I began blogging in my twenties and early thirties. I committed to writing a novel based on an unfinished short story I shared with my then-mentor, my boss. Under his tutelage and encouragement, I persevered on not only completing my first, and so far only, novel. I even took it upon myself to self-publish.
I went through many rewrites and had a few people help me edit my writing. But the reviews I received focus more on opinions on how best to use grammar and less on the story.
I wrote more novels immediately, but it became more difficult. And life became more distracting. I fell in love. I lost that love and got it back. I got married. I switched careers. I went through a crisis of identity. I lost confidence in writing.
I got lost in the what-ifs of what I wanted to write. Daydreaming about writing took precedence over that act of writing.
I wrote and published blog posts every week for about a year. I wrote until I dried up like a house plant that had used the last of its water by a neglecting owner.
This is not advice but more reflection and self-encouragement. I am honored that anyone takes the time to read what I have written. Can you relate a little to what I have gone through and am going through? I want to be an example to others that have struggled with consistency. I want you to know you are not alone.
My goal is to prove to everyone that it’s okay to fall. More important is the moment you decide to get back up and persevere. That can sometimes be our greatest accomplishment and should be celebrated. Not everyone is an immediate success. It’s what we do after we fail that sometimes matters more.