|photo by paper pastries|
Between undergrad and grad school, I've spent an infinite number of hours typing stories and papers on my laptop. Afternoons and all-nighters filled with despair, Coca-Cola, and fervency. Fulfilling a writing assignment usually feels as physically and mentally exhausting as running a marathon.
When I have a story deadline, I typically procrastinate because the blank page is a wall that appears too tall to climb. So I sit at the bottom and look up in dismay. Hours before my story is due I begin scaling the wall while the clock steadily dwindles. I need the fever of a deadline to spur me into action.
This dysfunctional writing cycle produces unnecessary pain and stress. Once I finish my story, with only a few minutes to spare, I sit and wonder why I didn't start sooner. Inevitably, the wall is easier to scale once I start climbing. Next time, I tell myself, it'll be different. The process doesn't have to be this way and yet, it's a habit I can't break.
I haven't written on my blog for almost two months because I either haven't felt like I've had anything worthwhile to say or the simple act of writing my feelings/thoughts down has felt too hard. The tricky thing about any creative endeavor is that you only get better with practice. How will I know what I want to say if I don't try?
So this is me, once again, trying to write. Make it hurt so good.