Dare You Write Even A Single Word!
I didn’t show up here to write this post. I was writing something different altogether a few minutes earlier.
After a while, it seemed quite alien to me itself!
So I ceased to write any further. I closed down the browser tab and got myself a break. And then, I wrote this.
I Picked Up A Distress Signal
I have a mechanism fitted inside my body.
Whenever I write something that doesn’t echo with me, my body passes through discomfort.
When there’s an effort or struggle in what I’m writing. When I take too many thinking breaks. For me, it means that there’s something’s incorrect going on.
For example, the story I was writing before this one felt burdensome. It was a perfect concept. It could’ve been a powerful article.
But I wasn’t convinced on what I’d written so far. I couldn’t sense the truth in it. And as I continued, my body started generating more heat. My hair itched and eyes seemed heavy.
In short, my body was reacting.
But I kept on writing as I criticized the weather. But after 300 words, the discomfort grew fairly evident.
Something was missing in the post. I was missing in the post.
Finding Myself In What I Write
When I had settled upon being a writer, I had committed myself to the one rule. That I would write nothing that wasn’t me. Which wasn’t in my practice.
Maybe that resolution bugs me every time I stray or err.
The genuine articles I write demand least effort from me. All I really do is relax in front of the screen and set my fingers down on the keyboard. That’s it!
The rest gets taken cared of. There onward, there’s nothing much I do. The story tells itself through me.
But it only does when I‘m staying true to myself. If that post doesn’t have my understanding. If I‘m not relaxed with its movement. I can’t write.
— — — start editing here onward — — —
When the topic I choose lacks my confidence and effortlessness, I’m left all alone. Then, it’s only me who’s writing. Struggling in the pursuit of printing out words. The “effortless” factor gets wiped out.
As per my experience, my writing is the best when it’s effortless. When I need not think and make efforts. When I make efforts, there’s something lacking. I lost the dynamic creative force.
The instinct tells me whether my soul is in the write-up or not. If I’m feeling uncomfortable, or resisting, then my heart isn’t in it.
If it’s not my experience. Or something in which I don’t genuinely believe, I don’t wish to write. And if by any chance I end up doing so, something pulls me back.
Writing Means Effortlessness & Spontaneity
I’ve prepared dozens of ideas to write on. My notes’ app is full of them. Many of my old notebooks and journals have inspirations scribbled on them.
But I haven’t executed almost 90% of ’em. They plainly sit there, staring at me. Asking me, “Why did you even jot us down in the first place?”
Most of my ideas come suddenly and when I sit to write.
Or maybe I started with one thing and ended up with another!
Let’s say, I will write on being productive today. But as I’ll write, something else’s getting brewed up.
Something that was more close to my heart and original. But I never realized it. It’s like the force that makes me write understands me better than I do!
I say, “Okay. Let’s write on Handling Negative Emotions.” (Let’s call the writing’s magical force ‘Dr. Strange’) Dr. Strange replies, “Great. But how about you write on the helplessness you feel against those emotions?”
And that’s my aim! To share. Rather than instruct too much. I might share solutions, but I prefer to stay away from the instructor image. And even if I deviate, Dr. Strange never lets me.
I’ve talked about the effortless thing earlier. How Dr. Strange always does the job and I’m the one doing the least work.
When I Drag Myself Through The ‘Feeling’
There have also been times when I’ve ignored the inner calling. When I was lost in the mind and wrote out articles misaligned with myself. With my purpose and my experience.
To be honest, those posts don’t seem so pretty even today. When I scroll through my articles, I try to overlook those specific stories.
‘Cause I know that they’re lacking the spirit. The original writing spirit. And I don’t even have any sweet memories with that piece. Otherwise, I sense a special connection with all the stories I write.
Those articles are clumsy, and unorganized. And some of them are the ones I have edited several times. By external terms, they’re perfect.
But inside, they don’t resonate with me.
And surprisingly, those articles never work with others, either. They’ll be having views, but few reads. And even lesser fans.
Bottom line:- They don’t feel mine.
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