Write

   My challenge for you this upcoming week is just to read or write. Immerse yourself in the process and jump into a new world. I have found that usually when I cannot write, I am just putting too much pressure on myself. I want to write something AMAZING and I will not be happy with anything less. I have to remind myself, and so should you, that writing is like milking a cow. If you squeeze too hard, nothing will come out.
   On a different note, NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is about to start, which is a great accountability challenge for anyone wanting to get a work going. I am not going to attempt it this year because of classes, but next year it's on! 

Write

By the end of my freshman year of college, I was carrying a sizeable burden on my shoulders, and every now and again it would lean in and whisper, Write. I didn’t want to write. I had resigned myself to only having sub-par writing skills and I certainly did not have anything to share with a reader. Even so, that burden grew heavier and louder.

It was during the first semester of my sophomore year when I began experiencing envy of other students’ schedules that included English or creative writing. I almost cried when one student told me she was majoring in creative writing and took classes called workshops. Workshops! It was around this time that I began snapping back at the burden, I don’t know how.

Then, one day, I found myself in the library…standing in front of the library computer…typing into the database, How to write. I left with Jerry B. Jenkins’, Writing For the Soul. For days, I poured over that book and made annotations on sticky notes and when it was time to return the book, I actually asked the librarian if I could buy it. I will never forget the incredulous look on her face.

So, I was now armed with the few priceless skills Jenkins had gifted me and when the burden leaned in to whisper, Write,  I did–joyously. Most of my writing during those days was short and laden with double meaning, as I was remembering how much I enjoyed allegory and symbolism. I did not expect anyone to read what I wrote so I did not fear confusing an audience with my play on words, allusions and innuendos.

Of course, it was not just me and my burden all that time. External struggles did arise. My heart learned almost every emotion on the spectrum and by winter break I found myself alone with my laptop and my tormented thoughts. That’s when the well dried up. I would stare at the blank document, with the curser blinking endlessly and my heart would turn stone cold at the thought of seeing my feelings and thoughts on that page. Everything was so raw.  Everything hurt too much to process.

The burden to write did not go away. However, I think it felt some sympathy towards me because in the second half of my sophomore year it started saying something like, It might help to write it out.

              Summer came with fresh life, fresh thoughts and fresh words. Time had provided me a new vantage point and the break from classes gave me ample opportunity to throw myself into writing. I wrote everything that came to mind and often found myself laughing or crying or scowling while I did so. The freedom was wonderful, until one day the burden whispered something new. Let others read it.