Why I Write

The words I just wrote stare back at me. I loathe them. They don’t fit into the story, really, they don’t even form anything resembling a coherent thought.

The fear sets in. I am washed up, my best days are behind me, and even the best days if I am honest were not even that good.

I’ve got no idea how to write the next paragraph, sentence, or even the next word, let alone fix the slop which is already on the page.

My mind races as I pace around the room.

I should have become a banker, or a broker, or a bricklayer really any other career (why they all start with B not even I know). WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF? Where is my music? Maybe I’ve had too much coffee, or not enough. The desk is dirty, the light is not right.

Lay down in the middle of the floor. The first twenty seconds of the Donkey Kong Country theme song has started playing on loop in my head (link for those unfamiliar https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpfm1Q96Sgw).

Breathe, I remind myself. Remember what it feels like to feel completely worthless, isolated, and alone. If we can connect, reach even one person through my writing, and share that burden, let them know that they aren’t alone even if it feels like it. If we can “decrease that terrible sense of isolation we’ve all had too much of” as Anne Lamott so excellently put, we will have done it.

Things may be cruel or unfair or just plain mean. The milk may be spilled all over the floor and there is certainly no way to fix it, to get it back in the glass where everyone can plainly see is where it is supposed to be. But with a little bit of courage, and sprinkle of creativity we can face these challenges.

I take another deep breath, get up off the floor, and sit down to face the words I’ve written. We are in the heart of darkness and the only way out is through. We are only going to find the answers by digging in and getting our hands dirty, and failing then trying something different.

“So we beat on, boats against the current…”