I'm writing about writing. Things are getting a mite meta in here. If someone comments on this post, writing about my writing on writing, we may create some sort of meta-singularity...
I mentioned in my last post that over the last few months I've felt an urge/inspiration to write (which I, in typical form, found a way to ignore and forget and cold shoulder until it dissipated). For a long time, I've had this little nagging desire to write something. To create. To build something of substance out of nothing but ideas and words. This desire was initially sparked by my incredible high school English teacher, Mrs. Smith, the first person I can recall ever encouraging me to write and telling me I had any talent or skill for the task.
For the longest time, I've wanted to write something, likely a novel, but I can never come up with an idea big enough upon which to build said novel. I stumble upon little nuggets of ideas-scenes or phrases or lines of dialogue, but I'm still working on uncovering the heart of this imagined novel, the critical mass that I can develop into a complete work. Spoiler alert- In all likelihood, there will be zombies.
Throughout college and seminary the spark to write was there, but it was constantly drenched by a flood of papers and tests and classes and studying. I loved my field of study, but it was definitely writing-centric, leaving little free time or motivation to do so for fun. After putting together a 15 page paper, finishing just under the deadline, the last thing I wanted to do was sit down to churn out more words on pages. Now that I've been out of school for more than 4 years, I've certainly had the time to write, and even more so over the last 4+ months, but I don't have the motivation that I used to.
What happened to that urge to write?
Where did it go?
I have no clue.
So, in the interest of trying to find it, I'm trying to be more intentional about forcing myself to write. Just write. Sitting down and blogging, or adding to a couple of things I have in the works, writing song lyrics, or grabbing a pen and putting whatever inane thought comes to mind down on paper. Just doing anything to get stuff from my mind out into something tangible/visible. Maybe that act of discipline will kick start the muse I silenced.