I don't even know where to start.
Or where the beginning is, or where the end was.
It's been months, and so while I want to say hello, I'm feeling the need to just keep going. To honor the time not written here, but to move forward from where we're at. Meet myself, and you, here.
Meeting each other where we're at.
That's not something that's all that easy to do these days, I know.
Between the social and political climates, the holiday season whirring by, and life. Life seems busier these days. More complicated, these days. More everything.
And yet, I want less. Or, rather, I want a bit of calm in the storm.
Which I suppose is why I'm here.
In the early days of blogging, writing felt like a safe place. A place to come and look at life in a different way. A place where I could figure things out, alone and then together with readers. I walked through life with eyes that were a little more... careful to catch things. I was more observant in many ways.
Late in October I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo for the third time. Less than two weeks before November first, the starting date. I pulled together a hint of an idea for a story, and I ran with it. It was the most difficult NaNoWriMo I've participated in, and "won" by reaching the goal of writing 50 thousand words. Partly because of the story and how I went about writing it, partly because of things that happened completely out of my control, partly because I'm trying to figure out what role I want writing to play in my life.
Is it as a teacher?
A creative coach?
A writer of fiction?
A writer of non fiction?
A writer of essays, blog posts, or simply (importantly) morning pages and journaling?
These last few years writing has been a constant. But, I haven't stuck with any one project long enough for it to come to completion, fruition. I tend to stop as soon as I start getting ahead. Fear of failure, or maybe fear of success.
I have four novels that are half finished.
I can't even believe I just typed that. Four. Half finished. Novels.
There are a lot of things I realized last month. About my process, my fears, my strengths and weaknesses. But I also realized that it's getting harder and harder for me to drop into the writing mode. I used to be able to do it at the drop of a hat. Five minutes? I'll use that, no problem. Now? I'm distracted easier. I'm pulled in a million directions, easily.
It's easier to write a Facebook post, an Instagram caption, or a 40 character tweet than it is to write a blog post, an essay, a book. And it's easier to read the quick snippets as well. Time wise, attention wise.
I'm looking for practice in going slow. In writing longer. In listening. In attention. I'm looking for action instead of reaction. I'm looking for subtle nuanced conversation instead of yelling and aggressive debate tactics.
So I'm here. Looking for all of it. Hoping to create some of it. Longing for creating and making and work. And perhaps this is a way of doing just that. Getting back to listening, sharing, crafting rather than spewing.
Intention.
I'm looking for intentional thought and action and kindness.
Will you join me?