At this moment I’m edgy, antsy, trying to force myself to write. Even though I know that my best writing comes from the easy place, I find myself trying to squeeze charm onto the page with everything I’ve got. This wrestling match I’m in? Definitely the hard place.
It’s familiar to me, it reminds me of long days at a corporate desk, doing work that someone else assigned to me. Of facilitating meetings that no one, including myself, wanted to attend. It’s exhausting and the product of such effort is usually flat and flavorless.
A couple of days ago, I couldn’t get my thoughts on paper fast enough. I stood dripping from the shower, recording perfect sentences in my notebook before they vanished. As I walked to lunch I sent myself at least five text messages with notes for the pieces I was writing. The words seemed to come as I needed them, stories, metaphors, the perfect phrases – all there like little gifts. Definitely the easy place.
So, finally, I decide to simply be in this moment, this hard place moment, and write about what I’m experiencing now. Right now.
And suddenly the words are flowing again, the perfect phrases for what I’m feeling are here, at my fingertips, in the air around me ready to be plucked and put on the page.
What’s the wisdom in all this? I guess it’s that the easy place exists where I am, not where I think I’m supposed to be.
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