Monday, February 2, 2009

Write this down, Miss Writer

I have never been one to make resolutions.  I've always thought that it's silly to go along with all the hype a new year brings and decide that you are going to make life chances.  Plus, I tend to reject "rules," or anything resembling them, even when I am the one setting them for myself.  I've had to reshape my vocabulary to say things like: I want to do more of this, I'd like to be more... rather than: I can't do this, I have to do this.  I'm not such a fan of the can't and must dos.

Rather, I have really been encouraged to work towards those dreams of mine that I keep in a safe place.  Last year, the anticipation and then arrival of my dear little boy pretty much trumped, oh everything.  He's here and wonderful.  Now I'm more aware of the fact that if I don't discipline myself to focus on delving into my creative thought processes, I could very easily let them slip away in the name of exhaustion.

It is too easy to ignore the voice that says, "Write this down, miss writer."  It is too easy.  Recently, in conversation with some friends during our monthly book club meeting, we began talking about the goals and dreams we have in our lives.  More than one of us noted that achieving these items will take risk and sacrifices, but sans that risk and sacrifices, success is impossible.  Writing is too crucial to who I am to neglect it, to not nurture its whispers and shouts, to leave numerous journals out of sight- thus, out of mind.  

January has brought me a renewed sense of possibility,  and a clearer understanding of how no one else is going to fill the pages of my journal, post my blogs, most of all, start writing that book.  You see, this book haunts me.  I know I want it. I know I love it. I know I can.  Yet, I don't even know what it is or where to start.  Rather, maybe I am afraid to start without knowing where it will lead. Yes, that is very possible.

Some people look at their dreams and fear that they will never ever come to pass. That's easy to me, because I look at my dreams and there is this daunting fear of the great responsibility that comes with such lofty dreams.  I think it is scarier to me to say, "What if all my dreams really DO come true?  Can I handle that?  Am I capable of the strength, discipline, and dedication that accompanies such great passion and purpose?"  It's curious that I despise mediocrity but also "fear" greatness.  I use fear, more in the terms of reverence rather than terror.

The plain truth, I am the only one stopping me.  I no longer want to be my only hindrance.  No resolution is going to reform this, only the pen in my hand and the tap of my fingers on the keys.

Only I can stop me.
Only I can write it.


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