A few days ago I started a new entry, the all-encompassing year-end wrap-up. Cuz that’s my way. Or should I say, that’s usually my way. I’ve historically found it pretty satisfying to write about some topic, start to finish, where I can tie everything together with a beautiful bow and present it like a true story arc, the classic hero’s journey complete with the epiphany moment and post resolution conclusion. 

But real life isn’t so much like that. It’s more like the chutes and ladders game we used to play as children: move forward, climb up, slide down, and repeat. On and on until you reach the end. I’m about half way to the end. Eeeek, what a strange thought to have!

Anyway, though that previous piece of writing feels like it would be a satisfying exercise to complete, I could barely start (I got about as far as I have today) before I kind of lost my mojo with it. I promised myself I’d return later, looking briefly at each month and approach it that way, writing a bit of summary of what happened in each. 

After abandoning that, and thinking about it for a few days, the whole thing felt like more of a chore than a fun exercise. The Universe knows I don’t need anymore chores. 

It’s a true statement that the more effort I put into writing something like that, the more I am disappointed when it doesn’t get read, liked, whatever. It’s a self centered thought process, but I’m just keeping it real. 

What I can wrap without too much effort is my December writing experiment. The month started with a newfound spark of inspiration. That led to a bit of a writing challenge. Something to prove I could still do it if I wanted to. I’m referring the act of writing poetry. I signed up for a prompt-a-day in December and, as of today, I’m 29 days in and have spent at least a little time with each prompt. 

Of those 29 days, I’ve probably written at least a little bit on most… maybe 23 or 24 days. Not always on the exact day (with holiday chaos and all that). Of those 23 about ten came out resembling a poem, the rest being a stream of fluff. Of those ten, though, I think five or six might be worthy of a second look, when I get to a place I’m ready to work on revision. I find these results really promising, and also validating. 

I may never be a “poet” but I am and will always be a writer. I’ve experienced a bit of a crisis around this topic this year. I thought for a good long while that the well was dry and had convinced myself that I just needed to let it go and move on to something else. 

I had been rolling that negative existential narrative for so long, I believed it was true. The real truth is, though, that I just needed to force myself to flip the script.

I also decided that for the duration of the 31 day challenge, I would not submit anything. That old familiar cold-turkey dance. I think it helped. 

I had to get away from the goal of publishing and the crutch of doing something tremendously easier than actual writing. It takes way less brain power to research and send a batch of poems to prospective publishers than to write something new. And I’ve been pushing hard on that front for so long that if I had a spare moment, that was my automatic go-to. 

Ok, so the last few days I broke down and tried to do both, but what I found is that if I did the submitting first, I got stuck in that mode and never made it to the prompt. If I worked on writing first, however, then I was able to do both (provided I had the tine).

If I run out of time, then at least I’d written something new and maybe that’s key. All of life is a balancing act and if I find that happy middle place, then life will feel less like chutes and ladders and more like cruising a smooth highway. Doesn’t that sound like a dream? 

As I inch toward the end of the year, I have a few more days of prompts and a few more opportunities to revisit the days I didn’t write anything. When January gets here, hopefully I can keep that magic going and continue to be kind to myself no matter the outcome. 

I think that’s it. It’s been about an hour and my Lied Lodge elliptical machine time is up. Next stop… breakfast at Timbers. 

Peace and love, 

~Miss SugarCookie