On Being a Writer - Day 30

Sometimes staring at a blank page disheartens me.  The words I thought I had in me before I sat down have vanished.  I have nothing to offer.  The blank space, sitting empty, taunting me to fill it up is as intimidating as standing before a crowd of people and feeling I am paralyzed to open my mouth.  My fingers sit poised over the keyboard but I cannot strike the keys.  I cannot string together the individual letters that will form words into sentences to convey my ideas.  There is nothing.

It's a difficult conundrum.  To write is the very act of...writing.  It should be simple really - make words flow together into sentences to express an idea to share with others.

But writing, that is something entirely different.  When writing is something born of yourself, created in your imagination alone, and something others may {potentially} read, it takes on a whole new significance.  It becomes not just words and sentences expressing an idea, it becomes a piece of your soul exposed to the world.  Even if no one else ever reads the words put into print, once it is brought to light, the writer becomes unshielded.

Displaying my own vulnerability by writing, then sharing it through this blog leaves me feeling naked.  Thoughts formed in my mind and shaped by my words are available for others to examine and judge.  Every time I hover over the post button, I pause feeling a wild moment of panic.  As great as I desire to share my writing, my desire to keep what I compose private is stronger.

Write 31 Days has moved me forward in my journey as a writer.  Joining a writers group has motivated me to quit hiding.  I enjoy weaving words and expressing myself in ways I would never achieve verbally.  I have journeyed through this challenge, apprehensive at first and gaining boldness along the way.  I'm finally embracing writing as one of my passions and owning it.  I can call myself a writer and not feel I need to justify why quite as strongly as I did at the beginning of this month.  I feel I have proven to myself that I do have something worth sharing.

I have also decided to take the plunge into NaNoWriMo!  I am joining all the other aspiring authors attempting to write 50,000 words in the month of November.  Writing every day has become a habit I look forward to; I don't want to lose the momentum and rhythm I have come to enjoy.  NaNoWriMo is the perfect opportunity for me to continue practicing my newly adopted craft.

I wonder what November will bring.

Click here to see the rest of my Write 31 Days series:  Simple Gems

Writer's Jam - Day 20

Laptops and notebooks spread across the dining room table as each writer claims a space for herself.  An eclectic mix of mugs scattered throughout add comfort.  Laughter abounds.  Stories spill over from both voice and keyboard.  Sometimes the staccato music of tapping keyboards and scratching pens is heard.  Sometimes it is the harmony of story-tellers telling their stories.  The setting is Monday night's Writer's Jam.

Sitting among this group I am still getting to know, I feel welcome.  I feel accepted.  I feel comfortable.  These are not feelings I have often while in a gathering that includes people I don't know well, especially not in a group so newly formed.  Only three weeks old and attendance has been slightly different each week since we all come as life permits.  But the level of comfort remains the same whether they are already friends of mine or someone I've only met that night.

The common theme that draws us all together is our love of words.  Our desire to express ourselves through written words bonds us.  Most of us blog, but journalling, story-telling and poetry are all part of the words we spill out.  We come as we are, bringing what we're working on, and plan to write.  Sharing is optional.  Laughter is essential.

We've been brought together by Alanna Rusnak, author of the lovely blog SelfBinding Retrospect and aspiring novelist, when she put out the call looking for fellow writer's to join her in this blog post. She offers us a space to write without distractions from our regular life.  She's pulled together people that share a similar passion.

It has already become a place where sharing that I write, tasting the idea of calling myself a writer, and offering understanding to fellow writers is all part of the evening.  It is safe.  Knowing that the others sitting near, laughing and working alongside me, each understand that sharing my words is something I hesitate to do even as I desire it.  Sharing my words might expose my very most vulnerable parts to reveal deep hurts. hopes and passions.  The comfort of knowing the others around me may have similar trepidation about sharing their writing gives me a boldness I didn't expect.

I'm beginning to see that what I write matters simply because I wrote it.  It's not necessarily all about relevant content or how a reader perceives it, but more about the act of practicing a craft.  I almost feel ready to own the title of 'writer'.

Click here to see the rest of my Write 31 Days series:  Simple Gems

Scribbles - Day 13

Hidden among my own scribbles in my journal there are markings not made by me.  Imposed over my words are drawings and letters, words and lines written in the hand of others.  Along the margins on many pages are letters shaky in their formations, spelling out an idea that only a child's mind can fathom.

My name is imprinted across the cover, but it's inside where the love and hope and joys and cheers, where the fears and hurts and tears mingle to paint a picture of the heart of me.  These are the parts of me that only one other truly knows.  I pour the words out in ink or lead in an attempt to make sense of all I feel and think.

Although the journal belongs to me, my children have felt compelled to insert themselves into it with me.  Oh how annoyed I felt that first time I noticed the markings and scribbles.  I felt as though a part of me had been exposed and handled carelessly.  Turning the pages, I came to the back cover where I found this:

I realized then that they weren't defacing something of mine; they were sharing something of mine.  They understood that this book was mine to write in and capture my thoughts because we had talked about it.  I had explained why I wrote in my journal and had encouraged them to do the same if they wanted, giving them journal books of their own to doodle or scribble in.  But even still, they wanted to share what was mine.  I have a well founded suspicion that all of them have written in it.

Now as I reread the words I've written, my dreams are forever intertwined with these amazing little people in a tangible way.  When I see their childish lines and letters, I treasure even more the input they add to my dreams and thoughts.  It warms my heart that they so desired to be a part of me, a part that they saw was important to me.

I want to teach my children so many, many things.  I hope they remember me writing in my journal, sitting with pen in hand recording my dreams.  I want them to see every area of my life as an example.  I want them to know the value I placed on doing something that was important to me.  I want them to know it's okay to do something just because you want to, not just because it makes sense.  I want them to follow their hearts and be the best people they are made to be.

Click here to see the rest of my Write 31 Days series:  Simple Gems