Low on Inspiration...
...high on Determination. Or at least that's what I have to--need to--believe.
And besides, wasn't it I who wrote a few weeks ago that there's no such thing as inspiration? Yeah, I thought that was me. Better put up or shut up, eh?
So I haven't been writing these last few weeks, and I know that's an untenable situation. I have been feeling that diffuse sense of unease lately, and I know it has to do with my not writing. I have given myself a two-week reprieve, mainly because of Thanksgiving and then the fact that I have started a new job. I think it will take a couple of weeks to adjust to a new schedule, new hours, new people, but then I should be able to bounce back into my writing. Really, I can't not, or else I will suffer the consequences.
So by this weekend, I will begin again, working to get myself back on track. I am struggling with low energy right now, with a desire to just collapse into a heap when I come home. In fact, this very entry is a great effort against fatigue, and the fact that I am even here, writing it, is a victory for me tonight. I have absolutely no idea how people have any energy for themselves if they work and have kids. And yet it's been done. Just because it's hard doesn't mean it isn't possible.
And I do believe it will become easier over time. Which is why I'm showing up here right now. It's a baby step. It's a few minutes of writing for myself, and while this is not art or creative brilliance of any kind, it is mine, it is whatever I want it to be.
I work on the 9th floor of an office building, and the first day of work I climbed the stairs from the basement to the 9th floor. By the fourth floor I was sweating--(and I'm relatively in shape)--by the sixth floor I wanted to jump ship and head for the elevator. But I kept going. By the time I got to the 9th floor, I was out of breath, my heart was clanking against my ribs, and I felt totally useless. But I didn't give up, and I've been climbing that staircase every day now. And, incrementally, each day it's easier, and I know I grow stronger.
And so it will be with my writing. Coming to the page today was like starting a run after getting to the 9th floor that first day, but already, I am feeling flushed, optimistic, strengthened by the effort.
Pushing onward, determined, I will continue to be a writer.
And besides, wasn't it I who wrote a few weeks ago that there's no such thing as inspiration? Yeah, I thought that was me. Better put up or shut up, eh?
So I haven't been writing these last few weeks, and I know that's an untenable situation. I have been feeling that diffuse sense of unease lately, and I know it has to do with my not writing. I have given myself a two-week reprieve, mainly because of Thanksgiving and then the fact that I have started a new job. I think it will take a couple of weeks to adjust to a new schedule, new hours, new people, but then I should be able to bounce back into my writing. Really, I can't not, or else I will suffer the consequences.
So by this weekend, I will begin again, working to get myself back on track. I am struggling with low energy right now, with a desire to just collapse into a heap when I come home. In fact, this very entry is a great effort against fatigue, and the fact that I am even here, writing it, is a victory for me tonight. I have absolutely no idea how people have any energy for themselves if they work and have kids. And yet it's been done. Just because it's hard doesn't mean it isn't possible.
And I do believe it will become easier over time. Which is why I'm showing up here right now. It's a baby step. It's a few minutes of writing for myself, and while this is not art or creative brilliance of any kind, it is mine, it is whatever I want it to be.
I work on the 9th floor of an office building, and the first day of work I climbed the stairs from the basement to the 9th floor. By the fourth floor I was sweating--(and I'm relatively in shape)--by the sixth floor I wanted to jump ship and head for the elevator. But I kept going. By the time I got to the 9th floor, I was out of breath, my heart was clanking against my ribs, and I felt totally useless. But I didn't give up, and I've been climbing that staircase every day now. And, incrementally, each day it's easier, and I know I grow stronger.
And so it will be with my writing. Coming to the page today was like starting a run after getting to the 9th floor that first day, but already, I am feeling flushed, optimistic, strengthened by the effort.
Pushing onward, determined, I will continue to be a writer.
posted by Tiffany Hamburger at
9:57 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home