I have six unfinished posts. They are about a range of things. Twitter; dancing; courage; an attempt to work out my three things; Love.
None of them are doing it for me.
The problem, at the moment, is that I can’t quite find my voice.
It is hidden somewhere in sentences which sound right but don’t quite convey the sentiment, or sentiments that I feel but can’t put into words.
I have been working, for the past few months, on the premise that I can write a voice into existence but it does not seem, at the moment, like this will work. It has made me question why it feels so important to be writing and highlighted the rather difficult question of what I want to say.
I have not found an answer for the latter but of the former, I have become increasingly convinced.
I write because it is how I think.
I write because it connects me to people and, in the act of sharing an experience, I feel far less alone.
I write because I want to create something, and words are what I know.
I write to have a voice –
And yet, at the moment, it is off key and squashed by the fear of what would happen should I really speak –
There are a hundred and one things I’d like to write about, if I was not afraid.
And so it’s stalemate. My words are over here – my voice, there – and the purpose, just out of arms reach. I thought, at first, that stopping was the answer but a few things have pushed me the other way –
This post is one of them.
This quote (borrowed from the post), another –
“What people somehow forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here – and, by extension, what we’re supposed to be writing.” Anne Lamott
And this piece of advice* – “just keep writing otherwise you won’t learn what you like/don’t like” – something I really needed to hear.
If I walk at this point, I am giving up before I have given myself time to get wherever I am going and I am allowing the discomfort to restrict me rather than using it as an opportunity to grow….
And so I am going to keep scratching on. I am going to stop picking to death each sentence and explore whether this creates a space in which I can be a bit more brave. To let go a little and see if I can go beyond the boundaries that I have caged my writing in, and to tolerate the uncertainty –
Because it feels, still, important that I write.
*..from someone who remains a constant source of inspiration.