It is strange to have accomplished so much personally in such a short period of time yet feel so stagnant all the same. I just completed a short love story that scared the crap out of me and wrapped my mind around it to the point I was dreaming about it. The relief I assumed I would have once it was done never showed up. Just like with the writing of every other book or blog I have done in the past couple of months. I get wound up in the web of work writing beyond what I feel I am capable of only to be pulled apart inside out with nowhere to go but deeper within.
UGGHHHH! Sometimes it hurts trying to dig deeper and peel back layers of myself that I didn’t know were actually layers. It is like shedding my soul, only to find it is still wrapped and bound by more and more layers of the person I think I am or the person I am striving to be.
I am most frustrated by the fact that the book I have been writing, which hit me like a bolt of lighting one night, has ceased its effortless flow from me. I wrote 60pages of my new book in 4 days. And know, I want to work on Chapter 6 but am doing everything but that. I am terrified to destroy this incredible story that was given to me by something other than myself, by writing when I am not connected to the flow of creative energy that gave it to me. But to not write feels like a hopeless, death of a million lifetimes.
So, I am writing this, because sometimes the channel is clogged with garbage and I need to stick a broom handle down the disposal of my imagination and dislodge whatever chicken bone lies within.
I am bound and determined to be a successful writer come hell or high water. I would rather not wait for Hell or Highwater to show up while I am sitting around thinking about doing what I love. I would rather be doing what I love when the Tide of death rolls in on me, and I have no escape. If you can’t tell, I am giving myself a pep talk now and Damn it; I think its working.
I am going to write some great stuff. I am going to get over the fear of screwing up. I am capable of doing incredible things if I simply lean into the fear and allow the words to flow from a place not of me but of a higher calling as they are doing now Holy crap I am going to forget a period the words are flowing like hot lova down an erupting volcano, ready to destroy any blocks in my way and allow me to create what must be created and to write what must be written! For if not me then who? If not now, then When? The Gates of Hell are holding back the hounds in my life that for fear of death upon my sword shall not enter into the realm of living whilst I stand watch, they will fall upon my blade as each word pours forth from the fearless attempt at greatness and a Heavenly departure. Come now with me on the wings of flow that so valiantly we fly on. Gifted by one from some higher place but gifted all the same. And the wind is mine now I am on it and the hands reaching and grabbing for the want to destroy me and drag me to the depths are finding their grasps empty filled only with the thought of me hanging in the air. I am Off into the wind. I will see you when the winds change again.