I’ve let some dust collect on this old blog and I’m back to temporarily blow it off and assert my authority….sort of.
I’ve hit an inevitable dry spell in my writing and that combined with a vulnerability about my shop work had me questioning and deleting each word that I had pecked out for you to read.
It’s been three years since I started my open journal I call sweetmamak.com. In that three years I’ve gone through multiple makeovers and three website moves. I opened up a vein and let it bleed out for a while, confident in nothing but my desire. My writing style has changed over the years and I still flush with embarrassment over some of my posts and the grammar mistakes I still catch. Each post here represents a bare minimum of an hour’s worth of work to type, edit, post, reread, and re edit. That doesn’t include the time I spent in introverted silence, bouncing the words around in my head until they felt right to put to “paper”.
Three years later, I’ve hit a wall. My brain is tired, my heart is sore, and I’m unsure of the correct path to take to scale it.
In the back of my soul is a tiny flame that burns to be an author. It was there with me in fifth grade when I read my first short story to my class and beamed with pride. And it burned ever deeper with each daily diary entry, magazine-clipping-decorated poem, and short story about ugly ducklings in the coming of age years. Different events and accolades have thrown kerosene to this flame but it has yet to engulf me. I feed it but I have never been consumed by it.
And until I know the purpose of this flame I bide my time with grown up diary entries and blog posts attempting to keep the muscles from atrophy and the spark alive.
So I’m going to try the only thing that feels right….to do something different, change things up, find my passion. I need to try something I’ve never tried before.
Three years ago, I set out with the goal to write two times a week and I accomplished that nearly without fail for three years. This bought me some time to figure out where I was going with this blog plus it forced me stretch my muscles and mind. Now that goal feels awkward and uncomfortable. For three years I wrote from my head as I poured my thoughts into this thing. But I realized that my favorite writings are the ones that flowed out of my heart.
I think there is something to be said for discipline and perseverance but sometimes discipline and preservance can make one lifeless and depleted.
So in 2015 I’m going to try spontenaity and inspiration and writing strictly from my heart. No rules, no timeline. Just a desire to feel and write and persevere. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for but I do so hope to find it this year.