behold my word vomit
How do you not doubt what you write? As soon as you put it onto the page, it's permanent. But not. It's just a permanent reflection of a transient state, but does the reader always give you that grace? Does it matter? Yes. No. I don't know.
And so us writers chug along to chisel out what we mean. Sometimes not knowing exactly what we even mean to say. But upon editing, we know we definitely don't mean to say THAT -- so we backspace, strikethrough, and write again.
I like the style of stream of consciousness writing. And reading other people's streams of consciousness. A personal, maybe even private and vulnerable revealing of one's inner and outer landscape.
Yet when I write, that stream of consciousness feels disturbed, awkward, uncertain of itself. Lacking confidence.
Building confidence is simple -- just follow through with what you say you're going to do. Make the step small enough so that following through isn't so painful and cumbersome. Thus, this post is born for the sake of practice. For the sake of doing.
Ah. It's obvious I'm conflicted. I'm torn this way and that, and that's not your fault. I'm in charge of my life, and it means I need to set boundaries and a scope on what I want to express and what needs to stay the hell out of the writing zone.
I guess the only thing I'm proving right now is that there are days and times where writing becomes exactly this. Playing around with words. Stumbling. Wondering if you're wasting time, and realizing that you've been wanting to write for so long that this is better than not trying (even if it ends up being word vomit).
Behold my word vomit.
It is mine and I love it anyways.
Sincerely,
Nadine