It’s the morning after the writing workshop with Alice Kuipers.
Yesterday after returning, I was pumped. I made plans for a feasible writing practice. I had set goals for next week, next month, the next 6 months and for the next year. I was going to write at least 500 words/day, gradually increasing it to 1000 words/day. I would make a start on my memoir. I’ve been wishing about doing it forever with nothing to show except TALK.
I am here, in front of my keyboard. The pump is dry and my drive is already gone. I am tired, feeling my usual morning ho, ho hum. I feel no burning desire. How quickly it disappears! Where are the words? Where the heck did they go? I could easily give up but I won’t. I’m learning the rah, rah of hype carries you not far. Results are really about the hard work of drudgery. It’s one slow word after another on an empty page.
How am I going to write the 500 words today, never mind now the 1000 words/day next week? That is the intent of this blog, to write 1000 words a day. Hence the name onethousandandtwo, onethousand and onethousandandone having already been taken. So far, I’ve been a miserable failure, falling quite short of even 500 words most days for 2 years.
I am trying now. I gave up too easily in the past, being satisfied with accomplishing a post a day. It was not a small accomplishment. But it was not what I had set out to do. I gave up too easily and too soon. I did not PUSH myself to write more words daily. I tried to justify that by writing every day and with content. Of course that mattered but when I didn’t push, I did not move ahead. I always worked hard, but seldom pushed beyond the comfort zone.
I am happy with the content in my writing. The goal of doing an archeological dig of my life is a running theme in my writing. I know myself better now. I am peeling back the layers I have developed over the years. I am a daughter, a nurse, a caretaker, a pleaser…..I have lost count of the roles/layers. I have been unconscious that I have a self. It’s like putting on a different uniform every day to deal with the life I think I SHOULD live. After awhile, there are too many uniforms/layers/skins to remove.
I lost myself for
awhile a long time. I was buried beneath the piles of costumes and masks I wore. I had never considered myself an actress. Now I see that I had been a very good one. The world is a stage. Life is a show that must go on. Every morning I woke up, got up and put on my uniform and performed. Remember the Bugs Bunny theme? Yes, I knew my parts and lines by heart. No rehearsing necessary. “On with the show. This is it.”
I still have my piles of nursing uniforms. It’s time to let go of them and put on my writing habit. It’s time to do what I LOVE. I shall set out an inkwell and quill for inspiration. I will sing and hum and let my fingers ripple across the keyboard. The world is a stage for the life I WANT to create. The page is for the stories I have to tell. It is all up to me.
On with the show. This is it. Gather around. I have stories to tell.