This post isn’t by Lisa. I’m Megan, and the lovely Lisa has been kind and generous enough to offer her space to me once in a while as I try to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. If you feel so inclined, come visit my photo blog, One Thousand Words (Or More) and take a peaceful moment to yourself. Thank you for reading, and thank you to Lisa for being a friend. xo
It’s been almost a year since I shut down my personal blog and started a photo blog. I did it because I was burnt out, frustrated by lack of feedback from readers. Writing didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere and I couldn’t figure out a magic formula for picking things up, so I decided to focus my energy elsewhere. And while it’s been a good thing overall, the longer I’ve been away from writing the more I realize how much a part of me it really is.
At first it was a relief, not having to find something to say about something. Eventually, though, I would feel an ache inside when I read something someone else had written. I could feel myself seethe with envy when a writer got a comment complimenting their writing. I began to feel like I was sitting up in the nosebleed seats while my friends were sitting front and center.
I miss writing.
I miss sitting down at the computer, closing my eyes and letting my fingers race over the keyboard, words flowing from them almost as if they were there, waiting to be captured. Being in that zone is as natural to me as breathing and just as important.
But while my soul was lamenting its lack of outlet, my brain was resolute. I needed a break. The ideas weren’t coming and the frustration was building and other things in my life were requiring my time and energy. I tamped down my unrest and kept going.
Until I couldn’t anymore. I had to stop denying myself something that is a basic part of my being. I’ve been writing for work, but that is work and not quite the same as writing for the sake of writing, saying what I want to say how I need to say it and not giving a damn about selling soap.
So I’m here, relieving my itchy fingers temporarily until my feet find a direction that calls to them. I’m contemplating some things, but right now a new blog is not one of them. There’s too much noise, and I don’t want to feel as if I’m not being heard again. I don’t want to let something I love become a chore again. I can’t.
But I miss writing.