Right now I am out of step with my writing practice, and when I sit down to put a metaphorical pen to paper, I feel like my skill is just out of my reach, and still I grasp for it like a little kid who accidentally let go of a balloon.
I keep having the ideas bubble up, while putting plants in damp dirt, while running in the community pool, while making a beaded necklace. I find an idea that feels like it has legs and think, “Wow, that would be fun to write.” I put a pin in it, and later, when I sit down to form it into something, my brain feels like mush.
The writing muscle has gotten tight, and I am now in the process of getting it to remember how agile it used to be, how nimble.
Yesterday I walked into a bakery to pick up a loaf of sourdough bread for the week, a new ritual that I’ve recently taken up as I’ve tried to ground after months of being in flight. After I ordered my chocolate croissant and cappuccino, I wandered around to find a seat and saw a friend sitting by a window.
It was the kind of kismet you search for without knowing it.
I joined him and didn’t get up for almost two hours. What started out as pleasantries and a discussion about KPIs eventually found its way to grief and how we hold it in our bodies, how we internally process it, and how necessary it is then to externally process it with trusted people. I teared up multiple times because I felt so held by the conversation and so seen by my friend. I also learned that this friend, whom I’ve known for over a year, is a writer. At first, he protested, and then he fessed up that yes, he is a writer.
Our grief conversation morphed into one about writing, and about how to make space for it, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. To make space for writing in your daily life, it is most important to hold the space even when your efforts are lackluster and unexciting. If you carve out a block of time to return to something, and commit only to returning to it, somehow you’ll find your way back to it.
In getting back into the swing of things I am simply showing up to the page each day, letting words find their way out of me again. I am trying not to force those words to be anything just yet, letting them flow out in their own way, even if it seems like I’m recounting my day sexlessly to someone who isn’t really listening.
Right now, my documents read like a court stenographer’s report: I did this, then I did this. This was hard. I did it anyway. But eventually, I find I am able to hit a nerve, and I can focus on how I feel, and the days of showing up to a blank Google doc while struggling to hold my own attention long enough to pull anything out begin to morph into something else.
In my experience, repetition breeds progress, so I keep showing up, and soon I begin to find myself.
Reading: I read Famesick by Lena Dunham and loved it so much more than I even expected to. I finished the Broken Earth trilogy and cried about the story being over, and now I am finishing Feel-Good Productivity and loving it too.
Watching: The weird videos on YouTube the best of which are this one (cursed) and this one (delightful). Choose your fighter wisely. I’ve also been re-watching a lot of the past season of Game Changer on Dropout to get ready for the new season. P.S. Did you see they’ve got a Kickstarter going on right now to make the show into a board game? At the time of publishing it’s made $2,400,000 of it’s $40,000 goal. Yes, you read that right.
Thinking about: My schedule, a lot. I’ve also been feeling somewhat detached this week, and have been working on getting back into my own brain by doing things I enjoy which has meant a lot of listening to music and audiobooks while swimming.
Making: I got a One Step Looper and made a pair of earrings and started on a necklace. I also made this newsletter! I also planted my garden this week!
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