The writing muscle is a strange and elusive tool- it must be treated with a great deal of reverence, maybe even a little bit of fear. It is a part of the soul and needs careful nurturing. If you neglect it and forget about it and leave it to its own devices (much like I have been doing off late), it will fall into a state of disrepair. Cracks will start to appear along its supple lines and its flexibility will begin to shrivel until what remains is a potted plant, still precious but dying due to lack of moisture. Even good soil in the form of good literature alone is not enough without sunshine.
I spend too much time thinking and talking about writing than I do actually penning my thoughts down. What a dismal way to treat an art so intense, so beautiful that it can turn into life itself. I have always been afraid of being a professional writer- there was a time I wanted to do just that but since then I realized that unless I do not have the content, I would rather not plunge into the world of editors and critics. This is not a good thought to live by in today’s world, of course, to be firmly competitive one must plunge headfirst into the sea of sharks but if those sharks devour parts of your flesh, what would you be left with?
I know that I ought to be exercising my writing muscle every single day, or at least multiple times a week. What wonders I dream myself capable of creating! So sloth is one of my sins because my dreams are big and I forget to arm myself with the resources that I so clearly need in order to shoot for the moon. Today however, I chose to wade through a collection of WordPress Daily Prompts and write about a particular one— The Heat is On.
I do believe I am at my best when I have deadlines to meet- either real or imaginary. This is a tiny contradiction because I do not enjoy creative writing under duress and I haven’t indulged in a lot of professional creative writing anyway but thinking back to the times I reviewed TV shows within weekly deadlines (you can find at least some of them over here)- well that was an interesting and fulfilling exercise.
Every time I tread back into the waters, I am a little more uncertain. I feel that way again today as I prepare to press Publish on another autobiographical post about writing. Perhaps poems are easier because they are so flexible and disguised, I feel I’m in the open and yet shrouded in mystery. It might be time to let the veil slip back a little more again. 🙂