I may have written about this before, but finding the time to write creatively (nevermind everyday) is an issue that truly affects me. Now that it is NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month), I have been forced to confront my “laziness” or, for better word choice, “carelessness” for not writing enough. NaPoWriMo challenges poets to find the time to write a poem a day; it does not need to be the best poem that merits an award, but a poem nonetheless. NaPoWriMo challenges poets to find the time to write – that is the key.
Did I find the time to write?
No. Actually, I may still be trying to finish one of the many poems I started at the beginning of April. I am a careless, irresponsible, horrible, horrible failure of a writer. But can I defend this ridiculous behavior? Of course! I can come up with a million reasons for why I wasn’t able to sit down everyday and write a poem, or why I haven’t continued the short story I’ve been working on. There is always someone or something to blame for not being able to complete tasks; we can’t possibly take the blame for our own errors.
But, we can. We actually can. I’m going to take the high road and admit that I just didn’t do it sometimes. I could have, but I found other things to do (like reading, Netflix, writing other articles, or sleeping). Although it’s not bad that I gave myself some me-time, which is critical for my emotional state – if I’m not emotionally stable, I can’t function properly, which means I can’t work and make money (I work full-time and part-time for Bustle) – it’s bad that I didn’t find my creative writing important enough to find the time to write.
Yes, I remember now! I wrote about this in the first blog post for this website. I explained how Pressfield’s self-help book for writing gave me a major mental check for why it’s important to write everyday and keep that spark alive.
Obviously, I’ve let it burn out. Or maybe I’ve transferred that energy to writing other things/reading (which is good). Nevertheless, I’ve placed one of my most important aspects of my life on the back-burner and now I’m here writing a post about how I’ve clearly forgotten the purpose of my existence.
I am a writer. I cannot forget that, for some odd reason, I was given this talent and urge to write. But writers are the best procrastinators, and goddamn, I’m an expert at that shit. This lack of creative writing must end. It’s detrimental to my life. It’s probably why I’m so confused right now because I’ve managed to diminish a part of me from my everyday lifestyle.
However, it’s not the end of the world. Just like anything, you can always pick yourself up and keep going. I haven’t ruined my life as a writer (yet?). I’m going to get back into the groove and hold myself to it. I’m going to finish my poem and complete my series of prose poems. I’m going to finalize a rough draft of my short story. I’m going to write now because it’s still possible for me to dive back into things. I haven’t forgotten how to write; I just forgot that I had to.
Images: Death to the Stock Photo; David Mao/Death to the Stock Photo; Florian Klauer/Unsplash.