I am making a transition in my writing life. The reason for this is the complete derailment I experienced in the earlier part of this year. I know that isn’t much of an explanation, but this short version is free of negativity and the temptation to succumb to it. I could go on and on telling you what went wrong and how I allowed it to happen, but I do not want to contaminate anyone’s thought process with my own difficulties. We’re writers; we’ll manufacture plenty of woes on our own without someone spoon feeding suggestions to us.
The good news for me is that my writing passion is starting to return. The stories are creeping back into my head like deer tentatively stepping from the security of the forest into the wide-open unknown of the meadow. It was my own fault they were driven away in the first place, and I must and am taking responsibility for this.
For a short time I did nothing positive toward my writing life. The only connection I maintained to writing was reading. I hid out in books, believing what I did was helpful, but I was living in denial. One piece of writing advice that actually saved me was to do something different altogether. I was struggling anyhow, so why force something that wasn’t coming to me naturally? Instead, I walked.
My husband and I began hiking familiar trails close to home. I welcomed the exercise and fresh air like old friends. We kept at it, and now we look forward to seeking new places to walk. I took pictures with my cellphone during our hikes, playing at the most amateur form of photography. The simple act of creativity spurred my mind. I began to mentally describe what I saw and fashioned one or two-line stories.
My efforts probably don’t sound very constructive to the writing life except for the simple fact that they placed my focus squarely back on writing. I felt like an adult who had successfully recaptured the magical thrill of Christmas morning. All the superfluous baggage that people will try to tell you (or you’ll convince yourself of) is part of the writing life simply disappeared.
Again, I’m avoiding detailing exactly what those bad things were for me so that my followers won’t latch on to them. I’m also cautious in supplying instruction on how to overcome them because too many times we grasp a particular piece of advice as a hard and fast solution to our problems. When it doesn’t work, we become more despondent and depressed than we were at the beginning. In short, you must proceed fearlessly on your own to discover and apply what works for you. Fellow writers can cheer you from the sidelines, but they cannot prop you up nor do the work for you.
With a deep sigh of relief and contentment, I am single-mindedly focused on writing. The scales have fallen away from my eyes, the chains from my hands, and I am free to write.