On Writing

“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

Henry David Thoreau

There is everything to say, and nothing to say. Sometimes, the words are stuck. They are stuck in my soul, and each time I sit down to write, they run hiding into the corners to play with the cobwebs and the kittens. I have so much to say. I write in my notebook nearly every day. But alas, when I actually try to create something cohesive and coherent, my mind fails me. I'm lost, tumbling into an abyss.

It's been well over a month since I've published words. I felt like nothing I've thrown together is ever good enough. I know that I'm far too critical of my own words. I have bits and pieces and paragraphs saved as drafts, but nothing is good enough to share.

The problem with publishing your own words is the idea of being completely vulnerable, the idea that you bare your soul for the world to see.  As Hemingway ever-so-accurately described it, "There is nothing to writing, all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

One thing I know without a doubt: I have to write. I am meant to. The actual writing itself can be much more difficult, the struggle of what to say, how far to go, how deep to actually delve into my mind and share. It's bravery. It's such extreme vulnerability. It will certainly take much more practice on my part.

There is always the pain. Exposure is pain. Writing is pain, bleeding your soul onto the paper, spilling it onto the keyboard, sharing it with a world that may not understand, and what’s more likely, really doesn't even care.

The not-caring doesn't matter to me that much. The words have to be set free. There is no other way. When you know something, you have to share. There is always potential and the possibility that your life will help someone. I don't want to die with a song unsung, without at least attempting to share my experiences.

I don't even expect it to be fully entertaining to everyone. Some may not like my words. But that's the risk that I take. I need to write. That's why I had to start this blog, to push myself out of my comfort zone and force myself to write. Even on the days that I doubt myself and my impact.

My goal has been to publish a post at least once a week. That has not always been the case. Sporadic writers block has been a major obstacle. There's been a lot of self-doubt. I doubt the worth of my words. With the exception of only one post, I've had my friends read my posts before I publish them, because I didn't believe that my words were worthwhile, and I wasn't even sure if they made sense.

Despite the doubt, the questions, the writer’s block, the soul-bleeding, and the vulnerability, I will continue to sing.