I’ve been struggling with my writing for a while. At night, while I’m lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I get a lot of ideas running through my mind. I tell myself I will write about them in the morning, but then the next day comes and goes and I haven’t written anything. And I don’t know why.
Writing has been my passion for a long time. I’ve kept dozens of journals with daily entries, poetry, and short stories. I used to write fearlessly, penning words to paper or onto computer screen like I’m afraid they’ll disappear forever if I don’t record them quickly enough. Now I rethink every word I write like I’m searching for gold scraps in a riverbed.
I think I’ve gotten to the point where I set expectations about what I can and cannot write. I feel required to pen meaningful posts that will be useful for others to read. I’ve stopped doing the thing that started me writing in the first place. I’ve stopped writing for myself. I worry too much about what to write. I think too hard about whether it’s worth writing about. In the end, nothing gets written.
Last night, I decided that I would go back to where it all started. Every day, just write an entry. Pen down my thoughts, throw a few words together, write some poetry, make up some stories. Don’t get caught up in trying to make it meaningful. Forget about whether it looks good, whether it is well written, or if it is even worthy of being written. Just keep writing.
In a workshop I attended by Ross Welford, he said that the key to finding your muse is to write long enough and often enough. So perhaps if I allow myself to write about anything and everything, my muse will return.
Watch this space…