Do you know what I really about hate writing?
Sometimes writing hurts.
Unlike many writers, I’m not an introvert. I love being around people. Always have. But writing requires a significant amount of time alone. I don’t mind being alone. As much as I love people, I enjoy solitude as well.
But the process of writing is different. What is it about putting your honest thoughts on a page that is so intimidating? As I typed that last sentence, I felt (still feel) physically exposed, afraid to share too much of myself with you. I consider myself a confident person, but writing strips away my confidence to a great degree. I think it’s because writing requires a good amount of self examination. And honestly? There’s a lot of hurts that haven’t healed and a bunch of ugly crap I suppose I’ve never really had to examine until I faced a blank page.
Is it any wonder many writers suffer with bouts of depression? A friend of mine put it this way, “Ignorance of your state of being and all that is bliss!!! But it also seems to be unacceptable.”
True. It is unacceptable. So we keep going. We pierce the vein with our pens and hope whatever poisons flow out can help the healing process–our own and, should we be so fortunate, those who read our words.
Am I out in left field here? There is great joy in writing, no doubt. But does writing ever make you feel sad?« « Previous Post: Someday | Next Post: The sphere of humiliation (Oswald Chambers) » »