100/100: Day 2
I saw this happening. On the weekends I have more energy, I have more time to be creative, think, and nap. I set goals for myself, I get excited, and I start a project. I look forward to writing more regularly and getting a stronger routine down. Then, Sunday night comes around and I start the usual negative self-talk. "It's easy to write more when you have time but come Monday, you'll be too tired to even feel inspired. Way to go! You've set yet another goal you won't see through."
Part of the reason I wanted to challenge myself was to clear my head of the negative self-talk. To push myself past the undoing of multiple essays and poems and simply start. I've lost so many ideas before they even got down on paper because I convinced myself they weren't good enough. Who gets to say what is good enough?
When I was in college I majored in creative writing and women's studies. I loved my classes, they challenged my assumptions, made me question what I had taken as "true," and taught me to think critically. I hated some of the literature classes but could never tell anyone. As a writing student, I was supposed to love lit classes. I loved the books, reading, and thinking about characters and narrators. What I didn't love were the professors who saw the meaning of stanzas, paragraphs, and lines as black and white, good or bad. Wasn't everything in literature up for debate and interpretation? Couldn't there be more than one answer? The in-between, the idea that there were multiple viewpoints is what drew me to majoring in writing and not math.
Letting go and just letting my words sit on the page, imperfect and fresh, is crazy scary for me but it's the reason I need to do this challenge. Even when ideas, style, craft, and images are murky. I can't ignore any of it.
Part of the reason I wanted to challenge myself was to clear my head of the negative self-talk. To push myself past the undoing of multiple essays and poems and simply start. I've lost so many ideas before they even got down on paper because I convinced myself they weren't good enough. Who gets to say what is good enough?
When I was in college I majored in creative writing and women's studies. I loved my classes, they challenged my assumptions, made me question what I had taken as "true," and taught me to think critically. I hated some of the literature classes but could never tell anyone. As a writing student, I was supposed to love lit classes. I loved the books, reading, and thinking about characters and narrators. What I didn't love were the professors who saw the meaning of stanzas, paragraphs, and lines as black and white, good or bad. Wasn't everything in literature up for debate and interpretation? Couldn't there be more than one answer? The in-between, the idea that there were multiple viewpoints is what drew me to majoring in writing and not math.
Letting go and just letting my words sit on the page, imperfect and fresh, is crazy scary for me but it's the reason I need to do this challenge. Even when ideas, style, craft, and images are murky. I can't ignore any of it.
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