[process-ing]
an ode to the marathon of a creative process
the initial thrill of starting writing class embarking on writing this novel has faded here we are in the murky in between the part where I usually want to quit instead of seeing the messy draft through I keep hearing that writing a novel the creative process even is a practice of patience something that has never come naturally to me patience the low and slow I’m the opposite by nature I burn the eggs in the pan turn the heat up too high put the eggs on too soon gluing a layer of dry egg to the bottom my ideas feel the same, sometimes: seize on this hot and fast before you lose it! dopamine hit pure beginner’s mind excitement, clarity, flow I’m fluent in this now it all feels stickier alas, this is in fact where i must lean in go deeper or at least keep showing up because patience is a value of mine seeing something through to the truthiest of the truthy truths I'm learning that the values you hold need not be inherent to you but are the resilience tools to show up to the fear function with to see us through the messy in betweens while we seek the peaks avoid the valleys majority of our time is actually here in be- tween. that’s what the universe seems to be going on about for me anyway all of my magic practices, my gut, even the priest mom still sends me thoughtful sermons from so we try again pick up the pen open the page turn a friend hang into a writing session put the Loops ear plugs in my ears ‘gather my ingredients’ on a walk with Roxie wow, I realize now it’s akin to being in the rehearsal process where all I think about is the story I’m bringing to life everything I encounter; the high school students excitedly taking over corners of the Drama bookshop with the authority on topic and thrill only young folks can, the flicker of a candle, allll of the memories from my own life that bubbling up from their murky depths; make me think of my story. but ugh my efforts and work don’t quite yet meet my expectations, my idealized idea of the thing. then i remember that usually, around this point in a rehearsal process I call my dad in a panic, It’s never going to come together, I’m a failure, what am I doing here? everytime he replies with, you say this everytime. It’s just part of your process. 'Part of my Process'... the internal tantruming, the fear, the avoidance, the urge to cut my losses and run isn't new it never has been over and over again, I am reminded that the only solution balm ointment for my ailment is to just freakin write. act. keep. showing. up. so i do. I mean, I am. some moments are more free flowing than others lately, the edges have felt sharper and less clear Though, I suppose, this is how my writing creative work goes. this is process this is mile six or seven of the marathon the initial buzz of adrenaline from simply crossing the starting line has waned the cheering crowds are there, but thin and you’re feeling good but know you have so many miles to go this scares me but it’s something I need nay, want so desperately. it’s unavoidable, my insides insist this must be. so with cramping legs, fearful second guessing mind, slower fingers, and a Determined heart we keep putting one foot in front of the other one word in front of another carrying on And on And on And…
checking in…
I feel my relationship to writing shifting. And while my impulse is to name it or ascribe value to this, I choose to actively resist this urge. I’m learning a lot about myself in the quiet subtle ways. Excavating where some deeply ingrained stories still have their roots tethered in me and its really cool to meet myself here in this way. I really needed to write this little ditty today. To show myself I really am okay. Learning how I work, how do I show up? (the answer in this moment is laying down to write horizontal, with ear plugs in, and snacks at my disposal).
the photo above made me giggle when I took it. So emblematic of New York. Beautiful flowers on a tree and… DUMPSTER-only thing missing is the fire, amiright? (ba dum chi) It also feels so encapsulating of my insides, my creative process. I want to throw it all in the trash, but look how tiny that dumpster is next to that big blossoming tree. No way it could hold it all if it tried. So I will resist the urge and keep blooming for today.
I hope you are managing to find pockets to keep your heart whole. Whether through art, activism, or holding your loved ones close. Thank you to so many of you for your love, tenderness and excitement around last week’s post. I really love ya. Though the sun is shining and the skies are blue maybe you, like me, are feeling in transition. That’s okay. we’re literally in a transition seasonally, astrologically right now so good on you for being so attuned :) go for a walk, get yourself a damn treat, set those boundaries. we got this. sending you breath, abundant energy and big love always.
xo
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