For me writing is still very much an act of faith. Though in the beginning, it is the most fun. It’s like coasting downhill. I just write whatever I want and I’m so inspired. It’s all wheeee!!!! But there always comes a part where I have so many pieces of the thing, and I need to stitch it together. The messiness overwhelms me. Someone talked about giving up her current project to start a new one and I wanted to say, “NOOOOOOOOO!!” Because that’s always the temptation. I’ve abandoned projects that I probably just should have sat with and worked on. But I guess that’s part of learning. Make some mistakes and start to realize the patterns.
So, there’s always that messy moment where I wonder if things are going to come together. I get up from my computer a billion times because I can’t stand that uncomfortable feeling of it all not working. And then miraculously, or not so miraculously since the whole process at times feels painful, it comes together. I feel like that moment is the reason why I write. There is some kind of big life meaning behind it. Sticking to something that isn’t working out quite right in the moment, having the foresight to see what the project will be in the future, chugging along even when it’s so incredibly difficult and tangled. And how the work seems to be from so much more than just myself. The best work seems to arise when I am able to let go of some control.
Every act of creating is a miracle, and getting to do that is like testing the universe to see if there’s any magic left in it. And so I repeat the process in the hopes of having that happen again and again. But I’ll be honest: sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.