Leichtlin mariposa lily, Calochortus leichtlinii, Sierra Nevada, Peavine Mountain, Humboldt Toiyabe National Forest, elevation 1950 m (6395 ft)
Photo Credit: Jim Morefield via Compfight cc
Why do I do this? I’ve been reading Jeff Goins lately, and he has painful things to say that I’d rather not read. You are a Writer, So Start Acting Like One. It’s right there in the title. Because I don’t write much anymore. Phrases and ideas come to me in the shower, or while I’m feeding the baby but get knocked right back out again by my almost-four year old’s whining. Because I don’t act like a writer. I dream about writing but when I finally have a brief moment in the front of the empty page, I freeze up and words don’t come. Those windows are short and often at sub-optimal times. But it’s all I have.
I write because of the way the words sound or even look on the page. The rhythm of the sentences and how they flow together. But also because of the community. When I became a blogger it was because I thought I had something to say. Shortly after that I realized that I began blogging the same year as thousands of others. I was only one voice amongst the chorus of the blogosphere. Whatever I tried to write on there was always someone who did it better.
So I stopped trying to be the best and just decided to be honest. I discovered Five Minute Friday and found that some of my favorite and best work came from those prompts. Sometimes the words came easily, other times it was like pulling teeth and there were times when the words didn’t come at all. But I tried to remain true to one thing: I would be honest. I would talk about the hard things. I wouldn’t airbrush or tidy up my life or feelings. Because the world has enough Pinterest perfect moms. I know I wasn’t one o those and I couldn’t be even if I wanted to.
So why do I write? Because sometimes I want to be the one that says “you aren’t crazy, you aren’t alone.” I reach out, through the screen and share the happy and pain. Yes, I still do helpful, pithy and fun. But honest is my favorite. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to be what I thought was expected and appear to have it all together. I’d rather just be real.
