Luckily, it’s not very hard — I’m doing it right now! Each second passes with a rhythm of fingertips tapping these keys. Fingers wiggling as they transcribe one thought to the next, processing each one into a series of characters. In this moment, I am creating something new. Constructing a universe from the reaction of my mind on blank paper.
Who knows where these words will lead me? For one, I rarely do. I rarely know what the next line will be before completing the sentence I’m already on. Sure, sometimes I come up with lines out of sequence. Yet even then, it becomes an experiment in finding the link between two impactful components. How can I arrange these words such that it evokes emotion in my heart? What would reach me?
And then I answer. I speak from the perspective not of one wishing to be saved, but of the one who is saving. I write the advice that I’ve always been looking for. Because, it makes sense. I remember the most important thing: that all my hesitation to act has been caused from an illusion in how I view my own mind. It is because at times, I envision myself to be someone who wants to be a writer. Instead of simply being a writer. I unwittingly distance my cognitive perception of my own self through replacing I am a with I want to be a.
I dream of what it means to be a successful writer:
- Publish books
- Have consistent blog posts
- Write every day
- People who want signed books
Then I think of myself:
- No books
- Inconsistent writing posts
- In the last 6 months, I’ve written long-form like this less than 15 times.
- No books to sign
And at this point, I start producing the thought: I am not a writer. Once on the scene, this thought sparks a mental struggle which needs only but one distraction to be placated. In fact, I was just on Facebook for ~15 minutes since writing the last line. It’s uncomfortable for a mind to feel itself divided. So much so the next option is to just think of something else.
Often that something else is not writing! It’s browsing the internet, watching shows and movies, or playing video games. Then 6 months go by and bam! I’m no longer a writer. Through wanting to become a writer, I further push myself away from it. The solution instead, is to simply write. There is no want, there is no desire other than the impulse to write. To create a string of words able to convey something worth sharing. A melody of symbols. A moment both to reflect and to stumble across something new.