What are the things that prevent you from writing? What are the things that nudge you to jump back into the fray? On her blog, Amanda Mininger, who’d recently finished revising the draft of her second novel, reflects on writing’s cyclical nature and the need for self-expression.
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I’m coming back to writing because it used to be that it could help me process my emotions, learn about myself, learn about others. But I am weary of others, weary of myself. And my emotions are on lockdown until I jab their soft underbellies with a choir singing Om So Hum, and only then do they release themselves and course in rivulets down my cheeks.
My grandmother died. I want to write about her. I cannot find the words.
And so I cry.
And yet everything is bound up. I don’t know from one month to the next what will make itself known. Where are my old notebooks with my old stories and essays? Where are those old swords piercing the veins of truth? But when I read them, I don’t recognize the words anymore. Who was I back then? What did I dream about? Where did I go?
I’m coming back to writing. Because I have to.
What things have the power to pull you back into writing (a story, a blog post, a poem)? Share your experiences in a comment.