A SINKING SHIP
As I have mentioned before, being a writer is a journey. A journey that can take you anywhere anytime. My writing journey has felt like a sinking ship. The hole of emptiness seems to be getting bigger and bigger, slowly sinking the hope of the ship making the harbour with success and a story.
For every sentence I seem to write, something urges me to stop, telling me there is no story there, it’s not interesting and it’s not worth the paper it’s written on.
The voice seems louder this year than ever before. The devil of distraction seems to be getting closer and closer to me. I hear the devil lick his lips as he seems to be winning the war. His claws are gripping into my shoulders causing my fingers to slow down and my wrists to tire. The stench of spilled blood drips from his fiery skin, making me feels anxious at what to write.
Writing this year has been a feat for me and I can’t tell you why. My focus has been all over the place except where it matters, in front of the pen and paper. Now, sitting here in front of my laptop, I can feel the presence of something stopping me from trying to return to the world of writing, stopping me from getting better at my God-given talent. The distraction seeps the energy out of me, draining all concentration, passion, and heart from the page.
As I write this blog, I yawn with exhaustion, trying to concentrate and think about what to write in the next paragraph, to educate and entertain you. His claws dig deeper but I resist giving in to his tension. The devil of distraction will not win this war! Words are my weapon and the more I write, the less he can gain.
My eyes ache with weariness but I focus harder. I know somewhere inside me is a story, a poem, a novella waiting to be discovered and written. I won’t give up.
I YEARN TO HEAR THE ANGEL SING ONLY
I wait and try to listen to the other voice. An angelic voice of ideas, ambition and determination. I know that voice is near my ear, whispering the hope of tomorrow’s writing while gently waving her angelic wings. She won’t give up on me. She knows it’s in me. She knows it’s in every writer. Her voice is like a song, soothing with purpose and promise.
A writer’s inner war is real and present. It’s the consistent hindrance of our purpose but the more we write, the more dream, the more we try, our hindrance becomes our success, our ability to finish.
WHAT ABOUT YOU?
What does your writing war look like?
Who is fighting who?
How do you win the war and finish with passion, purpose, and promise?