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Unblocking a Writing Clog
From yesterday's journal entry
To unblock my writing, all I have to do is write. And write and write and write until the pipes are unclogged and the not-so-great junk comes out first – and then I’ll just wait and wonder and watch as the stage is set for the better stuff to emerge.
And then the patience kicks in and I’m off the diving board, the water whooshes by me, and it flows. And sure, there’s editing, but it’s such a different mode.
Because this one’s not restricted. It doesn’t have judgement or worry, strategy, doubt. It doesn’t have the practice and smoothness of a performer who’s sat for hours and pruned, pinched, and fussed about.
The commas haven’t been interrogated into submission, they’ve simply appeared, and only because the stroke of the pen deemed them rest here.
Rather, everything is raw and chewy. And yet, so easy. Easy to just put pen to pad and let it all just BE.
There’s a surrender in writing freely – without compulsion or containers. It’s fun and light, when it finds me. I feel like I’m singing. My ears are ringing.
I’m seized by something in the moment, something that’s not me. And when the pen stills, I’ve achieved victory.
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