So...now what?

Truth in Writing

This is an experimental post.  

Last weekend I made a statement to some friends that I don't think I have ever spoken aloud.  

"I am not disciplined enough to be a writer."   

Don't misunderstand.  I have spoken these words inside my head many, many times.  It is the fuel that fires the self-doubt and excuses that help explain a stagnant position.  I also was challenged by these same friends to stop using the excuse of  past influences and--I"m paraphrasing--"woman-up" to life's challenges.  (I can't say man-up...women are so much stronger in many ways than men.  That's another post.)  While this wasn't exactly what they said, that's the beauty of having such close friends...it was understood from our conversation.  A gentle nudge off my pity party stool and onto the solid ground of logic and reality.  Did I mention how much I love and appreciate my friends?  This has all provided some much-needed mental aerobics for my brain this week.

So, here I am attempting a post with no self-editing.  No re-reading.  No second-guessing.  No checking for bad grammar and poor punctuation.  Except that after two phone calls, a barking dog and a singing husband...I did have to take a break to let the noise subside and my brain gain some clarity again.  But here goes...

Years ago, when I decided to "get serious" about writing (for the 25th time) I suscribed to Writers' Digest, bought a few books and an updated copy of Writers' Market.  In one chapter, an author challenged me--because he knew that a challenge was what I needed to motivate me--to write SOMEthing everyday.  Because how can you call yourself a writer, if you don't, you know--Write?  I took this challenge to heart, got out one of my spiral bound notebooks and some good writing pens and proceeded to put something on paper everyday. 

Until one day...I stopped.  I don't remember why.  Life became too hectic.  The excuses gained more weight than the dreams.  A bout of depression overtook me.  The reasons do not matter now.  In the years between then and now, I've attempted to scale that mound of obstacles over and over again.  I always give up or give out or just become too apathetic to care anymore.  We all have our inner demons that never give up the fight to bring us down...Constantly tearing down our fragile dreams that always seem to be teetering like a tower of wooden building blocks. 

However, I still love the feeling of putting whatever is in my mind down on paper--just to see where it will take me.  Sometimes, I feel like a dog chasing its tail.  But other times, after pages and pages, I look back and see that I've treated myself to an amazing and wonderful journey.  Just like when I'm reading a book.  The problem is that I've always doubted that anyone else would enjoy the trip as much as I did.  But, the joy of just losing yourself to those moments of imagination and free-thinking...It makes me understand how someone like Mozart was almost crazy with the music that must have filled his head.  Although, I don't have masterpieces of words to share with the world, I do sometimes feel that my brain is swirling with thoughts and ideas like a swarm of flies around a garbage dump.  And the buzzing is just too annoying to ignore.

So this was my experiment today.  I just wanted to sit in front of the computer, place my fingers on the keyboard and let the flies go wild.  This is just one blog post, so I've tried to keep it brief.  The truth is I MAY be too undisciplined to ever be a published author...but as long as I can still put words on paper--or on a computer screen--I AM writing.  So, technically I can call myself a writer if only for a few moments out of this day.  And the flies are still buzzing and will continue to annoy me until I sit down and do something about them the next time.