Sitting alone allows your mind to contemplate things. The things you don’t have time for during everyday life. The hustling to get out the door. Speeding to get somewhere on time. A certain somewhere you’d rather not be. Frantically trying to keep your composure when all you want to do is scream. Or cry.
Car doors slam. Water drops hit the pavement, as a sprinkler waters the flower bed.
My temporary sanctuary soothes me. If only everyday could be like this, wouldn’t I be content?
I guess this could be my every day. Some may not understand the feeling I crave. The freedom in escaping. Listening. Creating.
I’ve always written when I felt Ike it. Whenever the urge hit. Never facing a career ending deadline, my words came and went as they pleased.
When I am highly emotional the words flow out of me, just like the sprinkler watering nearby. They are not always good words, but my page fills and I find peace. An emotional balance.
When I am living in my normal……..I tend to shut my writing door. Closing off the inspiration and disregard my emotions knocking from the other side.
I attended my first RWA Conference this year. Sitting among people that also have a passion for writing, made everything REAL.
Apparently, REAL scared the shit out of me.
For a split second, I thought these feelings meant that I did not belong in the midst of these other writers. That I was in over my head.
Then, as fast at it hit me, my doubt was gone. I started to think about the book ideas I have created and the characters that are alive in my head. The characters that are barely breathing. Suffocating under my procrastination.
Both stories are as much a part of me as my own heart. If I let these stories disappear, will part of me fade away too?
Strength took hold and rooted itself deep within me. I realized that I am tired of keeping the door closed. Only allowing access when I’m emotional, unstable, or just plain mad. It’s time to remove the door. Rip it from its hinges and explore the possibilities of my reality.