I used to do these writing exercises. I had so many names for them over the years. Runways, scraps, loose thoughts, dreams. I would sit down, and just start pounding keys. No plan for what I was going to write. Just slapping keys. Sometimes interesting stuff would come out. Most of the time it wouldn’t. It was a cure for writer’s block, for a lack of motivation, and perhaps even for a lack of imagination at times. Sometimes it was a struggle to bring myself to the keys, and doing one of these writing bursts was all that would give me enough comfort to write anything. Sometimes I would spend a whole hour doing that and convince myself that it was enough.

For me, there is a fear of failure every time I write. It doesn’t matter if it’s writing for myself, for the world, or for someone special. Even now, I feel bad for wasting that time on those scraps and dreams. I remember all those words that I was so proud of even though I knew 90% of them were bad.

I have to remind myself that my mind wasn’t in the right place most of the time then. If I never put myself through the struggle of writing those scraps and dreams maybe I never would have gotten where I am now as a writer. I will be the first to admit that I have a lot of work to do, but the only thing there is to do is to keep working at it. Keep pushing myself. And If I can’t create what I want to create right now, maybe I can at least create something instead of those nothing words I kept leaving in my wake.

Quote of the Moment:

“Human beings have a remarkable ability to accept the abnormal and make it normal.”

― Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary

Current Reads:

Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo
Dawnshard by Brandon Sanderson