three little dots

I had been feeling a little down about my writing as of late. I have been in similar situations before *see Writer’s Doubt*, but this felt different. Things were simply at a standstill and I was just festering. 

My book research was at a stalemate until I could squeeze in another interview with my Grandparents. My blog was getting dusty and it was not for want of trying. I had a whole cache of word documents with nothing more then 3 or 4 un-spirited sentences about all things lame and boring. I believe there is even an attempted blog post saved somewhere about the differences between green tea drinkers and coffee drinkers which I did not post - you’re welcome.

I was really starting to doubt that I could write anything interesting or well structured that someone would actually want to read. 

Then I received an email from the Editor of The New Quarterly asking me to write a biography of the literary journal’s Wild Writers Festival for the Waterloo Arts Awards ceremony as the festival had been nominated for an award. I was petrified. I am a very new member of the journal’s Board of Directors and this was my first task - I was nervous. No - I was petrified. 

I slowly read my assignment; 

• 3 bullet points, 45 words maximum. 
• A concise overview of festival or event career highlights

Seems simple enough.

I agonized over this. Seriously I did. 

I poured everything into those three bullets and emailed a document of exactly 45 words (a near impossible feat for someone as verbose as me), formatted into 3 bullets, with all words spelled correctly to the TNQ editor. Then I waited anxiously for a response. 

And then it arrived - a short little email indicating that my 3 bullets were “great” and appreciation for my taking this little project on. 

I was elated!

Sometimes it’s the little things, like 45 little words in the right direction.

Maybe that green tea drinkers vs coffee drinkers blog idea wasn’t that bad....

No it was. 

Writer's Doubt

 My mug of coffee sits on my desk like a steaming island in a sea of papers and my mind swims with all sorts of ideas. The chaos offers further contrast to the stark white void that is my computer screen - an empty page is such a daunting task. It has been a while since I was last here - four months to be exact  since I gave myself the time to write. Other requirements ate up my time and swallowed up my creative energy. I lost touch with my writing and wasn’t sure I could do it anymore. I look at all the ideas I have written onto scrap papers that cover my desk, or scrawled on the chalk board over my head. They were all written down in the vain hope of capturing that moment of inspiration. But the moment has passed and now I sit with my fingers poised over the keyboard - not knowing where to start.  

Ideas and ambition are not enough to combat the nerves. What if the words just don’t flow into my mind like they used to, what if I just can’t get the idea and turn it into anything, what if I have lost my ability to do that? What if the gods of writing want to punish me for my months of absenteeism? 

I nervously sip my coffee, chew my surviving nails and reposition myself in my swiveling chair about 3 dozen times. I tell myself to write, to just start typing a thought, any thought. Nothing. The screen remains the glaring white and the blinking cursor mocks me. I am faced with internal doubt and have two options; procrastinate further or grit my teeth, tell myself I am a capable, creative woman and just do it. I choose to pay my Bell bill. 

Another day passes - I have spent a lot of time at my desk with the intent of writing but instead found myself doing anything and everything I could - labeled folders, tested all the highlighters in my drawer to weed out the dry ones, wrote my name in my new books, rolled coins from the money jar, wrote a grocery list, refilled my stapler....you get the idea. The blank page scared me and I indulged the fear by avoiding and procrastinating. My fear of failure was keeping me from trying. Maybe writer’s block should really be called ‘writer’s doubt’. 

Finally, I began to type, and as soon as those first few words formed a sentence it felt like reuniting with an old friend; comfortable, relaxing, rejuvenating and just right. Sometimes the best things in life are like that - a little scary at first but once you overcome the fear it is all made oh so worthwhile.  

I wrote and wrote and wrote, you couldn’t stop me now. I read what I had written, deleting bits here and adding pieces there and next thing you know I am saving a document that is no longer blank, but really quite full. Full of my ideas and thoughts. It was beautiful. I named it and saved it one of my newly organized desktop folders (one of my many procrastination tasks) most likely never to be read, or seen again. But the act of creating was really the point of it after all. And it was wonderful!