Lately, I’ve fallen off on the quantity of words pushed out by my scripting hand. And it scared me. What if the ideas and compulsion to write don’t return?
My logical job involves forms, rules, annotated pictures, and reports. This is the exact opposite of the kind of writing I love—introspective, inspiring, inquisitive. So when I notice that my work brain has squeezed the juice out of my write brain, I scribble away anyway, late into the night, to remind my writing self to fight.
Writing can be logical, but rather than prodding at material things or applying regulations, writing brings order out of ideas, emotions, and dreams.
Writing is the visual code of our invisible energy.
Writing captures spirit butterflies in graphite, ink, and keystrokes, fishing in the waterways of the soul and heart. I love writing for that magical sense, and the feeling of briefly cupping the immaterial. Is that what artist feel like when they paint, carve, or sculpt? What did Michelangelo say?
“The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.”
In order continue nurturing my creative self, I will keep squeezing work, writing, and reading into my day. I see improvement and I’m adding to the conversation instead of only criticizing and consuming.
Sit down and write a thank you note to someone who did something you appreciated. In doing so, you materialize your appreciation and offer the giver a better sense of how his efforts were received.