Day 237 – Wild Abandon?

Memoir writing beats you up and since my pancreas has been attempting to kill me, I haven’t been able to turn to wine or cupcakes for comfort. I started taking a lot of magnesium, which helps with stress, but isn’t nearly as fun or social. Long walks in the early morning before it gets too hot help too. Anyway, I’m struggling with belief in myself. I show up. I put in the hours. I try hard. And yet most days I walk away with only a few good sentences. Occasionally, I’ll get a beautiful paragraph in one fell swoop, but that’s rare. It makes me feel like failure is inevitable. My piece is getting stronger everyday though. I write it from the most vulnerable places, but even this far in, I have yet to give myself over to this project. I want to feel the wild abandon of an inspired artist in the thick of a project, but my approach is more slow and steady. I am a tortoise who wants to be a hare.

I’m still scared too. I’m afraid nothing will change at the end of this project. That I won’t have much to show after a year of battling with myself. Which is totally asinine because I’m already different. My confidence has grown in ways I didn’t even know I was lacking to begin with and I care far less about what other people think. I’ve had my first literary rejections. I’ve written lots and lots and lots. Probably more than I ever have and it feels damn good. My health has improved dramatically. Things have already changes TONS. I just have no physical manifestation of those labors.

But if I don’t care what other people think, why do I need something to show for it? Ah! A part of me is still performing for an audience. Now it’s figuring out who and why.

Prose is architecture, not interior decoration. – Ernest Hemingway

Prompt:  Write about a nagging need to prove someone wrong.

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