My brain feels cluttered tonight for no good reason. Sigh…
I was feeling earlier about how far I’ve come in the past year. How much I’ve learned about myself, about my writing, all of it. It made me want to look back at where I was last year, and so I did.
And instead, I saw, or felt just how much I still continue to struggle
Which is a shame, because I had a truly good writing day today. A wonderful day overall, actually, in that I got a ton of shit done in the face of some pretty legit building-related stress…and I ended it with a writing session that I was genuinely looking forward to.
And I enjoyed it. I put on music, and I just explored my story. No rules, no boundaries.
Tonight…I just did my writing session for tonight, and it was harder. Because I’m tired, I think. It was less inspired, and more dutiful. Grinding it out so it’s done, and I haven’t broken my streak. Sometimes grinding it out produces gold. Most of the time it doesn’t.
It didn’t tonight.
And then I followed that up with going back and looking at my entry from a year ago.
I was writing about how I was proud that I’d cranked out 1,600 words, and that I was setting ambitious goals and hitting them. The words were flying from my fingertips…but not good words. I know that now. I can see through the bullshit. I was writing words, yes…but they were still coming from a place that had somehow become broken. They were just words. Not a story I was connected to.
So…I guess I have changed.
I do know the difference now. It’s less scary now to call out a bad work session. It’s not the end of the world. Those words need to be rewritten. And that’s okay.
That’s okay.