I am trying to
force myself to write practice writing more regularly. I tend to be overly self-conscious about each word, knowing that once my post is published, it’s out there. But a close friend and cherished mentor has told me to get over it. And so I am trying to do just that.
I keep lists of blogging ideas and usually have several posts in draft. But I find that if I don’t finish a post and publish it, I often lose the inspiration. I have even forgotten the original idea behind the words. There is something about the hitting “publish” that helps the ideas take on greater form, a life of their own so to speak.
We think in words. I write to understand what I think. I write to engage and develop and grow my thinking. I write to learn how to write. I write to learn how to teach. I write to share my thoughts. Sometimes I write to promote my work, because I want attention or feedback. Sometimes I write just to write.
When I was 12 years old my mother died. My family didn’t talk about it, not while she was sick nor after she died. I don’t know if they thought I was too young or just couldn’t bring themselves to face the pain, but I felt lost and alone. I had always been a reader and so I discovered that writing was a way to soothe my soul. I filled journal after journal with sadness and confusion, trying to force those feelings out of my body and onto the page.
Practices only work when we practice them habitually. I want to be a better writer. I am trying to practice.
I blog here and also there.