I have spent a long time feeling that I’m not ‘creative’. You see, I like rules, I like things to have boundaries, I like knowing what to expect… but in saying that I also like to push against all of these things in other people… I don’t even know what I think anymore.
I do know that I was created to write.
I don’t know why, or who for, or if any of it will matter, but I know that it will matter to me (spoken like a true creative… “Guuuuuuys!! I just have to do this for myself, guuuys!”).
I know that when I am not making time to, that I feel like I’ve let a little of my purpose grow limp. My life is full, I sometimes don’t know how, or when to make the time. I don’t write well in the evenings.
I am fussy, I want every effort to be amazing. I wish I cared less about every piece of writing I put out. I want to apologise for every sentence that could have been better, for every story that didn’t have the right arc. I want the world to read it, and I don’t want anybody to. I want to hear all of your feedback, and I want to put my fingers in both ears and scream at you not to tell me. I wish it wasn’t so torturous.
But it is.
And I am.
And I just have to deal.
(I am also fluidly selective in my adherence to punctuational and structural rules, and I don’t give a rats’ about it)
I feel like the era of the Blog is fading, and I also don’t feel like that matters. Any writing I do is practice, is honing a skill that will be better with use. It actually doesn’t matter whether nobody ever sees it. I will be sharpening my instrument.
I write best about what is burning me up inside, and right now that would be the fostering journey that we are on as a family. I’m not allowed to write about this. At least not publicly. What am I going to do with it? I want to create a history. I want to help other people on their fostering journey. Ugh. Confidentiality agreements and I are not easy bed-fellows. I am learning so much. Wish I could blog about it.
This quote has been stuck to my fridge for maybe a couple of years now. I whole-heartedly believe it. I know that I will be better, even if my weekly output makes me cringe and apologise. I want to be this disciplined, for my own sanity.
I plan to give it a serious go this time. There will be tantrums. They will be at home. Sorry Ramon.
I may not post publicly once a week, but I will be writing something. I have to write, to process this foster-mum stuff, but you won’t be seeing that. Sometimes I am fleshing out controversial ideas I have about a variety of topics. You won’t see those either, I’m too scared of all of you. Sometimes I will have something to write that is perfectly publicly acceptable, perfectly tolerable for general audiences. You’ll see those. I apologise about both the infrequency and potential mediocrity of them in advance. I’m going to do it anyway.
I have to do this.