When I was a kid I had excuses for everything. Why I couldn’t clean up my room (too much homework). Why I couldn’t play piano (my father wants some quiet time). Why I couldn’t do my homework (I forgot it at school). Why I got a bad mark on my test (the teacher hates me). You get the idea.
When I sat down to write this post I originally started writing it in my notebook. And my pen didn’t work. The pen I bought yesterday. The pen that yesterday made me feel like a bullshit artist because it wasn’t being inspired by my writing. And it wasn’t inspiring me.
But then I realized. I have no excuse. What am I going to say to my readers? I didn’t publish a blog post last week because my pen didn’t work?
I pulled out my laptop and I continued writing and I somehow understood. But it’s not only me.
None of us. Nobody in today’s world has an excuse. We live in a world of solutions. Or so it seems. Every issue can be solved – instantly. Almost.
Because the mass of the world has grown and our lives have expanded and they include so much and so many people and so many foods and so many conversations and so much information and so much that needs to be done before the clock strikes midnight. And there are a million apps to help us keep track and make sense of it all.
But what we really lack are relationships. And the more we hide behind our phones and computers and Facebook and Twitter and the more we try to engage with others the more we have to make sure that we’re invested in what we’re doing. Because people aren’t fools. And they know when we aren’t sincere.
And when you’re a writer and you need to share your work, half-baked work, because you signed up for a workshop. You promised yourself that your writing will improve and that you will learn to share because you’ve forgotten what it’s like. Except that when you do, you feel shy and exposed. I’m not really a writer and I don’t really belong here.
But I refuse to allow myself to self-destruct. Because I know that writing is done one word at a time. And rarely do I write the perfect sentence the first time round. It’s an excruciating process. But a process I feel blessed to be involved in.
So if I dare share my writing with you. Please don’t laugh. Because it hurts to get the words down. And I bleed when I share them.