So Seriously

So Seriously:

only briefly, and not often, but sometimes for just a moment before I begin writing there’s a little doubt that words will come to me, that without a specific theme to write of then I will find myself struggling as a writer, lost, and unable to fulfill my wish of early morning writing. This really seems more of a memory from past writing days that visits me even now, making a brief appearance, reminding me that once I took this all so seriously, having a need for words to prove myself a writer. That was my demand, expecting words to show at my convenience and unwilling, perhaps unable, to simply wait for their arrival. I was afraid of silence, taking it as a sign of failure as a writer, and didn’t understand the vital role of patience. Writing happens on its own…and I’m only an instrument for its design.

happily so.

it’s not taken so seriously now at all.

I’m unafraid of silence.

it’s easy to smile now at this memory, even when the ghost of my former struggles as a writer makes an appearance and attempts to haunt my early morning writing. I have no trouble waiting, enjoying the quiet before inevitable words reach me. Writing always happens, and without the need to take it all so seriously, I’m free to enjoy the entire process, whatever words are written. I have no judgement, no demands, and hold my…