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| So, I'm a bit rusty....but check out that classic styling. |
They say writing is like exercising a muscle. Like most people I spend much of my day writing work emails, texts to my loved ones, and ridiculous notes to myself on colorful post-it notes. I don't get to exercise that creative writing muscle very often, but as of yesterday, I've made a new commitment to do so. This time I'm actually going to do it and not let my blank notebooks gather layers of dust. What's different this round? Well after much encouragement from my spouse (mild threats to DO something about my dream to be a writer, rather than sit around twiddling my thumbs) I enrolled in a creative writing series at the university where I work. Now there is more than just my pride at stake- there's the pressure in knowing that I've actually
paid to be there. My first class last night was simultaneously energizing and terrifying. And I walked away with a ton of challenging homework for the upcoming week. After a decent night's sleep and with my initial enthusiasm somewhat reigned in, I've been doing a lot of thinking about writing today. Right now my creative writing skills are a bit like this rusty bicycle- I had every intention of getting out for a ride over the past few years, but somehow my ideas and my drive ended up shelved, abandoned, and left outside to rust in the rain.
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| Look at me Morty! No hands! |
The good news is that even though I'm a bit rusty (and my first in-class writing assignment sounded worse than the romantic gibberish I used to write in high school), I'm actually taking my writing out for a spin. Sure, I need some TLC, but at least I'm mostly intact. In no time I'll be cruising around like this fabulous Edwardian lady- confident, jaunty, and with a killer pair of boots. I have a story (a series, really) that wants to be born. But before that happens, I have to put in the time, exercise those writing muscles and learn to trust myself. I need this outlet in my life. I've suffered from significant amounts of stress, loss, and grief over the past few years, which depleted every last ounce of my creative elixir. But 2012 is a new year and I'm ready to reclaim my imagination, my dreams, and my sense of humor.
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I know that one day in the not too distant future my internal writing machine will take flight. I imagine myself as this fire-haired goddess, chasing my dreams through the cosmos, bounded only by the limits of my imagination and my faith in myself.
