The theme I chose for January was an easy one: beginning, introduction, just getting started. In literature, the term is exposition, which is a literary device used to introduce background information about events, settings, characters, or other elements of a work to the audience.
You don’t get plopped into the middle of a story without the narrator helping you get your bearings, and you don’t get plopped down in the middle of a project without knowing what exactly is going on here.
And here we are, at the beginning. A fresh start, a clean slate. Something new.
But, of course, there’s background information that might be necessary, so let’s start there. Where we’ve been informs where we’re going, after all.
A Little Background Info
Let me tell you a bit about myself. I’m a writer and have been since I was in college, studying communication and English, running the school paper then the literary magazine. Before that, I wrote mostly in journals while I hid in my bedroom.
In eighth grade, I wrote a few poems for my honors English class that my teacher loved. He suggested I keep going, that there was something there worth pursuing. By coincidence, many years later, I ran into him at Kinko’s when I was making copies of my master’s thesis, a collection of poems reimagining women of the bible, and he was so happy to hear I was still writing.
So, maybe I’ve been a writer since eighth grade.
I wrote my way through graduate school, then into the work world where I wrote and edited for local newspapers and magazines, eventually landing a few online gigs and a teaching job at the college. Since then, I’ve kept writing, sometimes in public, sometimes behind the scenes.
Then, there was last year. I felt a burden, a calling to write. A book idea came to me, and I got all jammed up. I couldn’t write, though writing was all I thought about. I journaled a lot, writing morning pages every day in the hopes of clearing the pipes and releasing whatever was blocking me. But I continued to be stuck.
I knew there was no payoff for staying stuck, but I couldn’t seem to unstick myself and come to the page without fear and anxiety.
Looking back, I wasn’t ready.
What’s the Payoff for Staying Stuck?
When you’re called to something, when you have an idea that won’t let you go, you eventually have to answer the call. I thought about writing ALL THE TIME. I thought about it, journaled about it, and talked to anyone who was listening. I read books about writing and sought whatever advice I could garner from writers I follow online.
What was the payoff for staying stuck? Nothing, except that timing matters and last year just wasn’t the right time.
I remember a writer friend saying once that if you’re not writing, you’re not a writer. What a loaded statement. I thought about it a lot last year. It was enough to produce wild amounts of anxiety for me and, last year, had me constantly questioning what was wrong with me. I wasn’t writing. Was I still a writer?
The thing is, I’ve always felt like a writer. I often catch myself composing lines in my head, sometimes entire paragraphs, some of which make it to paper but most of which get lost in thought. To me, that means I’m a writer more than being the most productive person in the world.
But when someone insists that you’re only a writer if you’re writing, guilt creeps in. And doubt. And the next thing you know, you’re questioning your self-worth and the value of everything you have to say.
That was me last year.
Your Worth Doesn’t Come from What You Do
But, let’s be honest. You can still be a writer even if you’re not writing. The writing life is more than just cranking out words, just like the writing process itself. We brainstorm, outline, write rough drafts, revise, edit, rewrite, polish. Inside all of that is thinking and dreaming and living. Ideas come best when our hands and mind are occupied with something else because downtime is just as important as being productive.
More important than that: your worth and value don’t come from what you do.
Let me say that again: YOUR WORTH AND VALUE DON’T COME FROM WHAT YOU DO.
It doesn’t matter how much you produce, how many words you get on the page, how many tasks you cross off of your to-do list, how much you can achieve.
What matters is who you are.
What matters is what you make out of the life you’ve been given.
If that means a year of silence, it’s okay. If it means dealing with your fear and anxiety and not writing, it’s okay. If it means that everyone else seems to be doing the thing that you can’t seem to make work, it’s okay.
What’s the payoff for staying stuck? Nothing, except that who you are matters and sometimes we have to press pause and tend to ourselves. That time is never wasted.
And so. By way of introduction and background information, this is it. Last year was a lot of struggle in my life and in my writing. And that struggle was the impetus to create something happy and joy-filled this year. It’s the reason I’m seeking out literary happiness. And it’s the reason I’m ready to get back to the thing I feel called to do: write.
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