Things are starting to look a bit different around here.
Yes, I’m still forgetting to shower every day, my diet still sucks, and the only exercise I get is walking to the bus, BUT – there has been a dramatic improvements in my life. I haven’t wanted to post about it because I’m afraid of jinxing it, but I feel pretty confident that I’m out of the jinx zone now.
So here goes:
I’m writing again.
Not like, jotting down little ideas or half-starting blogs or writing one line of dialogue and then forgetting. But I am honest to God, getting pages written in a real story writing. And the level of excitement that this brings me is like, mind blowing. I imagine this is how someone feels when they get a positive pregnancy test after years of fertility issues.
Things took a turn for the better around Easter. I met up for breakfast with my friend/life coach Kat, and we were talking about motivation. She mentioned this Neil Gaiman interview, where he says, “I give myself a choice. I can either write, or I can do absolutely nothing — like not stare at my phone, not read, not call anyone. Like, stare at a blank wall. And usually, after a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing, I find myself wanting to write.” It makes a hell of a lot of sense. And I set out to try it. The next weekend, I sat down at my laptop.
I thought to myself, “I just have to open a story and write for five minutes.” I started to get antsy, the way I always do when I’m about to write. It’s that anticipation of not having any ideas and not being able top finish something before I’ve even started.
I found myself hesitating, once again, so I reminded myself, “I can write, or I can do absolutely nothing.” So I sat there. I stared at the black laptop screen for about a minute, but that minute felt like an eternity. After two minutes of sitting still, writing for five minutes seemed like no big thing. So I opened a short story that I’d started in February. It was basically a bullshit romance story that I didn’t have any big plans for – something that I used as a warm up to get my brain working before I work on the stories I have bigger plans for — and started a stream of consciousness. Out of nowhere, I wrote something that changed the entire tone of the story, and then the ideas started pouring out of me. The next day, I wrote a little more. And a little more the next day. And nearly every day for the last 3 weeks, I’ve worked on it. I have a rough outline, character studies, and 26 pages into my first draft.
This shit feels incredible. I can’t remember the last time I felt this consistently inspired. Maybe in 2011 when I finished NaNoWriMo. But yeah, I can’t believe how good this feels. Looking forward to writing, and wanting to write again has been a rush. I feel like I’ve come up for air, and finally breathing oxygen again feels really damn good.
I’m really fucking proud of myself. I’m proud that I finally pushed through all the bullshit I put in my own way, and am doing something that makes me feel good about myself. I’m doing something for me, and it’s pulling me out of the stalling funk that I’ve been in. I’m doing it, guys.
I feel like anything is possible. Maybe next week I’ll do a sit up.