Done, Not Perfect

It has come to my attention that I have, without conscious knowledge or decision, put up a bullshit wall between myself and my creative writing.

I write everyday, yes. Yes I do. Three pages of consciousness stream journaling, in fact, but that is part of a ritual, for the sake of my self and sanity, rather than creative expression.

The kind of writing I’m talking about is this. here. Typing rapidly and trying to spell things correctly as my fingers fly across the keyboard. My god, you should’ve seen the spelling errors attached to this sentence before editing. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to type freely and without inhibition.

I don’t know exactly when this weird self-policing started, or the source of it, but I suspect finishing my book and dealing with the chaos of 2020 has something to do with it. There’s been an unspoken pressure to write well, to perform precisely, to get my thoughts onto the screen in an eloquent and punctual way.

But that’s been stopping me. Often. I can no longer carelessly open up a Google Doc and start typing with the force of flow state behind me. Whenever I have an idea, I stunt myself before I even make it to the page.

I analyse it too fast, too much, and kill the idea before it ever has a chance to bloom.

Why do I do that?

This only happens with my writing, by the way. When it comes to all other creative endeavours, I grab them by the tail and dance with them with passion and endless excitement and ease.

So why is writing so different?

I suspect my lovely friend Amie would have the answer. She’s a bloody phenomenon, having written five? six? books before turning 30. She shows up to the page and bashes out 500 shitty words a day and moves on with her life. I love her commitment and consistency and how she always shows up for herself and honours that promise.

Why can I do that when it comes to my morning ritual – meditation, breathwork, tapping, journaling, often yoga – but struggle so much when it comes to writing. the thing I was born to do? The thing I’ve been doing joyfully for the majority of my life, until I started listening to the boring narratives from the bulk of the world.

I suppose this blog post is a call to arms. I think? Going into battle? Seems a bit dramatic for something that’s actually supposed to be a fun and joyful experience. So insert positive quote here and mark my words.

I’m committing to daily writing. In the form of blog posts or working on a book, I’ll decide as I go. But the main thing is that I’m showing up, making a plan and my god, will I stick to it.

[Why have I never done this before? I’m great at doing things to prove that I can, and yet I’ve never attempted writing everyday before. First time for everything?]

If you find yourself here, at the end of this exploration of my bizarre mind, thank you for reading. I hope you got something out of it, knowledge, entertainment or otherwise.

I think there’s a lot of value in showing up for our creativity everyday, and although I do that in other forms and expressions, I’m excited at the concept of dedicating time everyday to my writing, and sharing it with you.

So buckle up, because there’s a lot of blog posts acomin’.

Love, Viv