My cousin challenged me to write. I was full of my usual excuses about not writing (kids, life, etc.) and was perfectly comfortable in my complacency. He listened to me with his writer’s ear, and very gently, with, dare I say, a hint of silent guffaw, firmly told me to write. Make the time, do it, practice it, keep writing. All writers know this. It isn’t new news. But it’s so much easier to have reasons for not writing than to sit down and do the writing. That’s probably why it’s the one thing that is repeated so often across the board by every successful writer out there. Our conversation meandered and he listened to me (with his writer’s ear) as I talked about the LIFE that keeps me from writing and his (quite natural) response was to say, “Put it in your writing!” (It’s what I would have told someone else if someone else wasn’t me.)
I heard him, agreed with him, and responded with my own, dare I say, silent guffaw because it isn’t so simple sometimes! I mean… LIFE!
But he was right.
I say I don’t know what to write. I say I don’t need to write. I say I don’t have patience to write. I say there is nothing to write for. I say there is no one to write for. I say I don’t have time to write.
But, here I am, at 5PM on a Saturday, at my computer, and only the hum of the air conditioning is keeping the room alive. The rest of the household is miraculously down for a nap when, not even an hour prior, the house was filled with the happy bustle of food, laughter, chatter, and games. My cousins, my cousins’ kids, and my uncle and aunt had visited for the first time since the pandemic had made hermits of us all and it was soul-filling. But it wiped everyone out. (At least in this house… Maybe my cousins were still going strong.)
Well, I think, I can pop in my earbud and watch a show or an Arashi concert. I think, I can lie down on the couch and play Fishdom or Pazudora. I think, I can sit at the table and enjoy my cold coffee… while I play Fishdom. But all those thoughts were a weak attempt to drown out this one–This is the moment you say you never have. No time? No patience? No words? Nope. I heard my cousin, now miles away back in his own home, silently guffawing and it was deafening.
So why am I still trying to make excuses? Shouldn’t I be amazed that I’ve been given this quiet time to explore my thoughts, to feel my fingers on the keyboard, to write uninterrupted? Why am I scared to commit? When I’ve had writing in me my entire life?
And actually, my conversation with him about writing isn’t the first I’ve had in recent weeks. A week ago, I met with old friends, one of whom is a playwright and the other who was so encouraging about our writing. Another friend also discussed with me the possibility of her beginning a book of her own. Am I pursuing writing or is writing creeping back at me?
It doesn’t ultimately matter, I suppose. I’m writing something right now, aren’t I? Even though I didn’t intend to. Even though I wanted to fight it. Even though this whole post was simply something to make sense of my thoughts on writing.
I’ve said this before but of the few gifts I have from God, I do think that writing is one of them. Sometimes I struggle with the thought that I’m not using His gift as I should. But I also don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with it. Just blog? Just journal? I think I’m better than the average writer. But so what? Average writers put in the work and the hustle. Should I embrace an impassioned artist’s heart and say, “If just ONE person reads my words and is fulfilled, then it is enough?” Meh.
Still, I try my best to listen. When my mom got sick, it wasn’t the time to write. My energy had to be put elsewhere. But now, some of that energy is being returned to me, and maybe God is reminding me to not forget and to not give up. He sent me encouragement from the writers in my life, because they know what it is to not have chosen writing. Writing is just part of them. Writing is part of me too. It has never been a whim. It has never been a passing thought, even though I have passed on it in my past. (That was so terrible I laughed while I wrote it and knew I shouldn’t edit it out. Oh my god, it’s so bad… Haha…)
So, cousin, challenge accepted.
Writing again.
Let’s see where this goes.
(The kids woke up. Ah… it was nice while it lasted…)
Breathing Words 