I'm writing a book. It's a collection of essays. Or it's a lyric narrative (a lyrrative!). Or something. Yes, I'm writing something. I'm writing some things. Well, I have written some things, maybe that's the better way to put it. I haven't been writing many of these things lately. I've been stymied for a long time about where the book/collection/thing is going, what I want it to be, what it wants to be. I'm sad about this. I'm frustrated and more than a little bit angry at myself. I'm also baffled; I still don't know exactly why it's so hard to make a priority of the work I love.
Last night I went to bed determined to make a change. I woke up this morning, tired and grim with determination. I told my journal pages (where I still manage to write some things some times) that I was ready to take writing more seriously. Immediately I realized that's not what I need. Dear goodness, I prayed, don't let me take my writing any more seriously than I already do!
I don't need to take my writing more seriously.
I don't need to buckle down.
I don't need to try harder.
I don't need to be more committed.
I need to take writing less seriously.
I need to write more often and with less fear.
I need enthusiasm, not discipline.
I need to be freer on the page and more forgiving of myself.
I need to stop worrying about getting it right.
I need to stop trying to be epic.
I need to keep learning to write badly.
I need to start having fun.
I need to play.