a new thing.

I love for my writing to be tidy. I crave organization and structure and plans and I have to learn, over and over again, that those are all ways to kill the creative impulse, and especially to choke out the good stuff.

I wrote a lot here when I started, for many reasons. I wrote several times a week. It was desperate. It was the clearest and most direct outlet for so many things that were pent up in me, struggles and thoughts and emotions. It was fairly anonymous, which is enormously freeing. It was the only way that I knew to move forward. It terrified me, which meant that it was right.

Over the years, I’ve come and gone. I’ve written in bursts and then let a solid month fly by in silence. I’ve had the epiphany lately that the expectation (and ensuing feeling of failure) is stifling. Can I tell you something ridiculous? I have this massive electronic to do list (I use Toodledo if you’re curious about such things). One of the functions is that you can create a recurring task, which is really handy for things that I need a monthly or weekly reminder to do. But for the last year, I’ve had “write a blog post” as a task that recurs every other day. OBVIOUSLY I have not actually been writing a blog post every other day. It’s totally mad. I don’t know what purpose that task serves other than to make me feel like a failure who falls short (every other day). So yesterday I deleted that task from my to do list.

I’m still here and still strong and I want to release the guilt from this place. I’m doing that by building another place with a clearer structure and purpose, one that I’m desperately wildly excited about, a place where the schedule fits. (Here’s the moment where I say: I have a new blog! Can you handle TWICE AS MUCH of me? I hope so.)

The happy (and unexpected) consequence of starting a second blog is that I want to write even more, everywhere, all the time. I have the focus to let my creative energy flow and it makes everything come into the light. I’m finding myself making lists of things that I might like to dive into here and in my notebooks and....everywhere. I have the drive to write. I’m waking up in the middle of the night wanting to write. I know these are waves to be ridden, but that moment when you’re on the crest is really wonderful if you’re a creative person.

I love the spontaneous, stream-of-consciousness that unfolds here, and I want to hold onto that sacred space. It’s something different, and still necessary, at least for me. Maybe the day will come when this place is ready to retire, and I hope I’ll know when the time comes. When I was young, my life had so much change in it that sometimes, as an adult, I find myself resisting change and clinging to what’s in front of me.

A friend said something that reminded me of my birthday goals list (which, to tell the truth, I haven’t thought about for awhile). I took a look back at the list, with less than two months to go, and realized that I’ve crossed some things off, forgetting that they were even there. I’m excited to look at the list again in two months and to unfold another list. Life is wonder. Future is hope. Art is fuel. I can’t wait.

*Yes, I have a fancy new blog. Come join me at An Essay on Living!