A Side Note

I’m grateful for the feedback I’ve received so far on the revival of this blog. It’s very encouraging, considering how rusty I feel in writing!

But „writing“ seems to be the Big Issue coming into my life this November. Not only am I cautiously attempting NaNoWriMo (without any preparation or planning and only the barest groundwork of an idea) for the first time in several years, but I’m determined to catch this blog up to my discoveries in Romania and then continue to stay up-to-date. Honestly, the biggest effort that will require is self-discipline. It has truly been a long time since I wrote regularly or for fun, and apparently I’ve completely lost the perseverance to simply focus and write for a few hours without distracting myself with Facebook or five other things. My brain isn’t trained anymore, but it doesn’t have to be my enemy either…after all, the brain has the ideas and provides the words that I am so excited to return to.

When I was younger, I was determined to become a published, well-known author in a very short amount of time. I thought that I would certainly be able to publish and make my living as an author and not even need to go to college. Well, ironically, school provided me with theatre, and of course the German language, and then even more languages as well as travel that would change my life and make me who I am today. This is where we come back to the love-hate relationship with my brain: sure, I struggle to stay on task and focus in ways that never bothered me before, but I do now have much more to draw on than I was when I was 13/14. My brain holds tools I never imagined when I was younger. I can use those to write, and grow, and hopefully someday soon feel like I have something I’m proud of putting on paper again.

I don’t know anymore if I’ll ever publish anything–I’d like to, if I ever finish anything, but I think part of recovering my abilities and feeding the spark in me that very clearly is a need to write something, anything at all, is going to be treating myself more fairly. I don’t have to write a prize-winning Zusak-esque life-changing tome. My fiction doesn’t have to be clean and perfect. My autobiographical ramblings about my time abroad aren’t for anyone else, they are for me, and I’m just sharing them. I will re-learn how to write with discipline, and I will learn, probably for the first time, how to write for me.

A few days ago, I realized that this main blog is still attached to other blogs I had on WordPress for a few classes in college. The professor had us respond to a reading or film on our blogs and he would check and give us feedback. The two I really used for those classes are in German, and as I was scrolling back through them this morning, I suddenly remembered how I had actually enjoyed writing those entries. It was an outlet, a source of expression, and I could flex my German like I haven’t in ages. Looking back at those entries, more than anything else, revealed to me that I’ve been neglecting this part of myself for far too long. I need to write. Something, anything. It has always been how I best express myself, in everything from my explosive, sometimes whimsical ideas to my more tangled and frustrating or deeply restless feelings.

I will make a solid, concentrated effort to keep up with my adventures here in Romania, I will do my best to use NaNoWriMo as a method of re-learning discipline and fiction, and with any luck, I’ll get a side blog in German going as a way to exercise. That’s somewhat of a mighty wish-list for November, but I have the tools, the brain, and the will. Better to try than continue brushing it off as „man, I’m sad that I don’t write anymore.“

There’s some idiom or movie quote that says something along the lines that words are „just“ words and not important without an action to back them up. In this case, I have to disagree with that, because words are my action.

My action is to take back my writing.

No more sadness.

Just words.

write

 

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