It's been something that has echoed in my spirit for months.
Build a routine. Build a routine. Practice rituals. Practice rituals.
And well, for a writer who's published a book and wants to publish more, I'm horribly undisciplined.
Part of this is me pushing against the mundane. I don't need the website stats or to waste time on the perfect title or to get lost in the checking the box-ness of daily practice.
I remember what it's like—the writing every day. I remember the blood-pumping through my veins and the tunnel vision and the words falling faster than I can get them down. I remember that rush and how much of a natural high it produced and yet I resist.
"I don't want to put a box around my art" I say, and really, it's fear talking. Will I ever write another book?
"I don't want to waste my words on blog posts" I mention. Which translates to the worry of being pigeonholed.
I talk a big game, you know? I'm nothing if not a dichotomy.
I'm learning that part of embracing wholeness is embracing all of me—even the messy bits. Even the piece (especially the piece?) that rails against opening up the new blog post area of her website because "who's gonna read it anyway?" and "I should be emailing Story Sessions instead" and "has anyone walked the dog today?"
Here's the deal: I left this space for a long time because I was tired.
Tired of the finger-pointing.
Tired of not feeling enough.
Tired of the pressure to perform.
Tired of the risk in becoming someone's poster child for whatever cause they're hollering about from their corner of the internet.
And I think I needed to step away from the consistency in order to get my heart back. In order to find the rhythm of the way my words beat against my chest.
Because there's nothing that'll sap your energy and focus than when others try to suck up your words and breathe them out for you.
So this is me tripping and falling.
This is me getting up and brushing off my knees and trying again.
This is me making this space purely my own with no other agenda.
I love words and I write the holy and broken and I believe your story matters.
This is where I will begin to practice merging those three.