Sprinting Without Running

I  wanted  to  write.   To  clear  my  thoughts,  impart  some  wisdom,  and  to  leave  an  imprint  in  the  world’s  readers.  I  wanted  to  inspire,  to  have  my  words  relate  to  others,  and  to  speak  the  truth  through  my  minds  imagination.

I  wanted  to  say  something.

But  I  couldn’t.

I  couldn’t  find  the  words  of  my  story  though  I  knew  what  I  wanted  to  say.  What  could  I  do?

Staring  at  the  computer  screen  proved   ineffective,  and  my  attention  span  wavered  way  too  frequently  towards  finding  something  better  to  do.  The  achievement  chart  on  the  wall  beside  me  stared  me  down  in  a  silent  challenge.  I  wanted  to  fill  in  the  days  writing  goals,  but  92  words  seemed  pathetic  for   a  whole  days  work.  I  couldn’t  write  that  down.

I   was  frustrated  at  myself  for  slowing  down.   I  had  deadlines  to  meet,  and  at  the  rate  I  was  going  they  would  pass  me  by  with  little  to  show  for  it.

I  needed   the  ‘writer’s  block’  cure.  What  was  it?

Word  sprints.

I  called  to  the  power  of  twitter  for  writers  alike,   who  like  me,  needed  the  extra  incentive  to  get  on  with  it.  A  20  minute  sprint  with  a  writer  unknown  was  all  I  needed  to  increase  my  92  words  to  830.

How  did  it   work?  Why  did  it  work?

Friendly  competition  was  enough  to  spur  me  on.  It  kept  my  concentration  focused  long  enough  to  tap   away  at  the  keys  furiously,  to  move  my  story  along,  and  to  meet   a   new  acquaintance  in  the  process.  The  timer  chirped  signalling  the  end  of  the  session,  and  it  was  time  to  check  in  to  relay  the  number  of  words  we’d  achieved.  It  didn’t  matter  who’d  won,  it  was  the  companionship  between  writers  to   help  each  other  out  that  was  important.

Sprinting  was  becoming  my  favourite   activity.  It  quickened  my  heart  and  sharpened  my   mind,  and  turned  my  writing  into  something  more.

Are  you  ready  to  sprint?

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Battling With A Poisonous Mind

I  pounded  my  head  against  the  desk  again,  frustrated  at  my  lack  of  creativity.  The  word  document  open  on  my  white  laptop  held  the  same  sentence  I’d  deleted,  rewritten,  and  deleted  again  before  deciding  it  was  actually  decent  enough  to  keep.  #Irritating

I  closed  the  document,  and  clicked  on  the  internet  icon  knowing  exactly  where  I  was  heading  –  Social  Media.  Twitter,  Facebook,  an  update  on  the  blogosphere,  anything  was  better  than  having   to  scrunch  my  brain  into  writing  something  worthwhile.

Between  self-doubt  and  procrastination  feeding  each  other,  I  wasn’t  getting  very  far.  The  blank  wall  always  seemed  infinitely  more  interesting  than  any  drivel  I  was  sure  to  waffle  on  about.

Writing  as  a  craft  was  exciting,  exhilarating,  stupefying  and  damn  terrifying.  I  was  alone  in  my  pursuit  to  create   a  masterpiece,  saving  all  comments  for  when  my  manuscript  was  perfectly  polished  to  my  satisfaction.  Only  then  could  I  really  appreciate  the  feedback.  That  was  until  the  seeds  of  doubt  grew  into  a  mighty  tree,  and  the  evil  demon  sitting  on  my  shoulder  grew  into  the  devil.

Do  you  ever  feel  like  your  head  has  turned  into  a  jumbled  mess?

I’d  read  articles  online  in  an  attempt  to  ease  the  warring  conflict  of  what  I  thought  was  right  and  wrong.  Trying  to  find  the  answer  to  my  harmony.  Was  I  good  enough?

My  already  gooey  brain  turned  into  an  even  bigger  slush  pile,  as  the  articles  contradicted  one  another.  What  was  I  supposed  to  believe  now?  I  liked  logistics,  and  I  liked  rules,  but  when  they  clashed  it  left  me  with  a  headache,  and  an  uneasy  stomach.

Advice.  That’s  what  I  needed.  The  best  I  ever  got  was  to  forget  about  the  rules  and  just  write.  I   soaked  up  information  like  a  sponge,  and  what  I  thought  was  the  right  way  to  do  something,  wasn’t  the  right  way  for  me.  I  flexed  out  my  fingers  like  a  pianist,  and  bashed  away  at  the  keyboard.  Something  was  better  than  nothing.

The   key  role  to  writing  was  that  it  was  personal.  My  way  wasn’t  your  way,  but  I’d  still  get  there  in  the  end.  And  wasn’t  that  the  point?  To  share  our  passions  with  readers?

Writing  was  as  solitary  as   I  made  it,  but  I  wasn’t  alone.  Not  really.  I  couldn’t  expect  my  writing  to  be  perfect,  when  I  wasn’t  a  perfect  human.  I  was  my  own  worst  enemy,  but  it  was  time  to  loosen  the  reins  a  little.

“Whatever  happens,  happens.  We  can’t  go  back  in  time,  and  there’s  no  point  in  guessing  what  might  happen,  it’ll  cloud  your  judgement  and  you’ll  second-guess  your  motives.  No  good  can  come  from  that.  You  need  to  believe  in  yourself  Luna.”
–  Riley,  Nature’s  Destiny,  coming  2014