I often wonder if I will ever write myself out; will I reach a point where I have nothing more to express? I realize that there will always be something, but when I recognize that I circle back to recurring themes, recurring memories, recurring, recurring—that’s when I feel this way, that I will reach a point when there is no more.
On the whole, I know there will always be more, and I tell myself that it's alright if I must keep visiting and revisiting recurring memories because each time I cross that path, there is something new that I discover about myself and my history. I still hold back. This I sense.
I also realize time changes. As simple as this is to know and understand, as it goes along and sneaks up, that’s when it’s most noticeable. I have always tried to live knowing and accepting that change is a part of life, that change is every moment, that nothing ever stays the same for even one breath…I take my oars; I keep rowing with the current—or at least trying to—rowing along, watching the water glimmer under the sun and knowing that I must continue moving along with the clouds following where the flow goes.
The online short story writing class has begun and as usual a slight anxiety and self-doubt has begun to settle in. It will subside. We have begun introductions at the online course site: Why are we here in this class, what do we like to read, and what do we like to write? It seems that most of the students are younger, maybe in their twenties. They are filled with excitement and are eager to write. I feel inexperienced. I feel doubtful. This is today. Perhaps tomorrow and the next day I will feel different.
Still with my downward feelings, I am excited about the class. I must process my feelings. It’s a way to free myself from the moment.
I will take each day one moment at a time and flow with the change—the ever flowing changes.
On the whole, I know there will always be more, and I tell myself that it's alright if I must keep visiting and revisiting recurring memories because each time I cross that path, there is something new that I discover about myself and my history. I still hold back. This I sense.
I also realize time changes. As simple as this is to know and understand, as it goes along and sneaks up, that’s when it’s most noticeable. I have always tried to live knowing and accepting that change is a part of life, that change is every moment, that nothing ever stays the same for even one breath…I take my oars; I keep rowing with the current—or at least trying to—rowing along, watching the water glimmer under the sun and knowing that I must continue moving along with the clouds following where the flow goes.
The online short story writing class has begun and as usual a slight anxiety and self-doubt has begun to settle in. It will subside. We have begun introductions at the online course site: Why are we here in this class, what do we like to read, and what do we like to write? It seems that most of the students are younger, maybe in their twenties. They are filled with excitement and are eager to write. I feel inexperienced. I feel doubtful. This is today. Perhaps tomorrow and the next day I will feel different.
Still with my downward feelings, I am excited about the class. I must process my feelings. It’s a way to free myself from the moment.
I will take each day one moment at a time and flow with the change—the ever flowing changes.
2 comments:
There are even times in blogging when a writer can ask the same questions..."Have I written myself out" must be a common recurring theme.
Vincent (who won't mind me mentioning him in this context, I am sure) and I both expressed, separately, something similar a few months ago.
It's a time when you just accept the brain cells need a rest and go with the flow.
ZACL, Yes, this horrible feeling invades all aspects of writing. I suppose it's just a part of the cycle, and as you said, it is also a time that flags us down, telling us we may need a rest and we must go with it.
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