For those who are into writing, motivations vary – some fantasize about the free-wheeling life of a writer while others dream of becoming rich and famous one day. I lie, if I say I’m not motivated with the same reasons in a way, except I also extend beyond it, for my writing is and has always been one of my lifelong passions.
Each of us has a story to tell, a one-of-a kind experience. The trigger is a voice, our own unique voice. Mine comes from childhood memories, first love, fears, joys and pains, career, anxieties, travel, unfulfilled dreams… the list is endless. What happens when I don't hear my voice? I’m stuck. I can’t write.
Writer’s block to me are those moments when I grope for words while staring at my computer screen or a blank piece of paper for long. What do I do when this happens? Sometimes I walk up and down. Occasionally, I grab a Sudoku puzzle book. Almost always, I pick up one of my favourite sparklers-for-the-mind motivational books. After a while and when I'm ready, I go back to free-write - an almost non-stop writing without going back to read what I did. Anything and anything that comes to mind, including joys, pains, impossible dreams, even negative emotions, why not. Anything to write about until I've scraped and freed up with courage what my voice has wanted to say.
I write with confidence because I trust my inner self. When my inner voice takes over then I can write for hours – totally absorbed and having a great time dipping into thoughtful meanderings aided by memories, feelings and creative imagination.
There are other exciting times within my inner self. I'm talking about moments when other voices visit me, when I allow them to take over my writing for a while as they share their thoughts and ideas. They are voices of loved ones and friends or occasionally, people I haven’t actually met but wished I had. Then I find myself writing thoughts not originally there before.
An on-going activity I’ve practiced through the years is keeping a journal. Occasionally, I dig for some of my old journals and take time to read them. Visiting down memory lane once in a while puts the past in its proper perspectives, reminding me that life keeps on. Reviewing these old journals with acceptance keeps me come away alive, invigorated. It supports a readiness to live again. Journals don’t only provide proper perspective. They become a balancing exercise to keep one's sanity intact, to put it bluntly.
Writing from within is an act of faith. It takes courage and assurance for those inner entrapments not readily seen or understood but wanting to be heard. All I need to do is be there, and be ready, when my voice within nudges.
