Writing right

Other than earlier's post, it's been a while since I wrote.

A funny thing happens when you get out of the habit. Your next post—those next words you plan to publish, grow larger in estimation. You start to imagine they must be perfect, that the ideas that could come from your brain must be good enough to warrant sitting down and creating something—the muse must strike.

That's all lies. And it's a telling trap I fall into time and again.

Last week I was traveling, and between time with family and work, it was a lot. So I didn't post for a few days. That's fine, it's not really a big deal. I've taken many unplanned breaks from writing over the last year. But I noticed this morning that my brain was starting to set in on the idea that perfection was required to get out that next post.

So I intentionally fought against it, sat down and hammered out an idea in minutes, writing about what I'd been doing the previous week. And you know what? It knocked down the lie again. It reminded me that perfection doesn't come from finding the right words in the right order. Perfection itself isn't the goal. Writing is. To be a writer you must write. End of story.

Now, with that comes a million questions about the quality of writing. But none of that matters, it's all secondary to putting words on a page in a deliberate, routine practice, and coming back to it time and again. The well doesn't get empty from overuse, but rather from disuse.

I often find that words created inspires more words, and I'll want to keep churning out thought after thought. Someday, maybe when I retire, I hope to do that to my hearts content. Daily exhausting what's in my mind. But for now I'm happy to chisel out a few ideas from each week, and be content with the ritual exercise that brings.