Go Deeper >> What are moments in which writing has proven difficult for you? How did you get through the painstaking days of wanting to quit? What are ways you can allow grace and space for yourself in moments where writing down words feels more like running a marathon when you're out of shape?
The first year we were married, I had stayed up late one night watching an infomercial on a pressure cooker: you could cook a cake in the top part and a fish in the bottom part- and both would come out perfect in half the time! I ordered it. I made pork chops. They were nasty. Really gross. I wanted to make every red cent count, so I vowed we would use it again and kept it around year after year- until my husband did one of his infamous clean-outs where he just throws a bunch of stuff away. (I do confess to having some hoarding tendencies that stretch back to the tin of Halloween candy in the back of my closet that I'd visit each day after school in November.) But, back to the point. What is my point? Pressure.
You see, writing has always been a release for me. A small guilty pleasure of sorting through this wilderness in my mind. A way to communicate that which I cannot fully grasp until the words fall out one by one and help me make sense. But, somewhere in the last month, the words have stopped falling and the pressure has been building up. I finally have this glorious hour all to myself each day. I finally have given myself permission to write something other than a family chronicle. I have joined this class, I have official assignments, I have ideas upon ideas and yet, it is like the lid is screwed on too tight on your beloved Coke bottle. I cannot get the words OUT.
I do feel "out of shape" - in a writing sense. Instead of hitting "publish", I just want to quit and hit "discard" instead. Why has it been difficult? Why do I choose to scrub the toilets and do my Bible study (that isn't even due for two more weeks) instead of write? Why do I sit on the couch and fold laundry, and read a chapter and fall asleep? What am I avoiding? Have I become lazy?
I think I know why.
When writing became a "had to" instead of a "want to"...
When I stopped writing for myself and started to overthink about who was going to read this...
When I read book after book of suggestions and wanted to put it all into practice at once...
When I actually put it out there that I want to be a writer, that I want to go somewhere with this, that I want to attempt to be a REAL author...the pressure set in.
The pressure lead to the what-ifs. Whatif I do not make sense? Whatif what I say is not significant? Whatif I give myself to this endeavor and stop giving myself to my needy kiddos- and it fails? Whatif I give my time to writing instead of doing all the chores and responding to all the emails and scheduling that all-important appointment? Whatif I don't become Anne Lamott or Madeleine L'Engle or Ann Voskamp- the people who always seem to say what I wanted to say, but seem to say it better? Whatif I'm not fun or funny? Whatif, when I write down a piece of myself and it is too depressing or pessimistic, and I don't like that part of me being shared?
So, how do I turn of the pressure cooker? How do I open the coke bottle?
Why is this writing journey leaving me with more questions than answers?