Some days there is nothing. Yet, here I am. Maintaining the blog, pursuing my desire to scribble down the jumble of thoughts and prompts which traverse my mind on a never ending spin cycle. Some days I am clear as to what I want to say and how I wish to say it, others I just feel the urge to write and see what words appear upon my screen. Some days I surprise myself, others I am utterly unimpressed.
Some days they flow, a torrent of imagination and creativity. I run alongside, struggling to keep apace. I am amazed at what I’m capable of, hungry to create and connect. Others it is akin to chipping away at a mountain side with a tea spoon. The well is dry and I am a spent force, screaming into the silence. There is nobody there, my message in a bottle drifts aimlessly never to be read by another living soul.
Eyes are closed, backs are turned, yet still I write, I hope, I try and try and try again. The battle with the self is incessant, the voice whispers honey glazed lies with an intensity I struggle to offset. Nobody is listening, nobody cares? You are a laughing stock, they talk and mock as you pass them by. The class clown, court fool and office geek rolled into one concise ball of vanity and self.
The camera never lies, look at what you have become, the voice urges. It’s time to wake up and smell the coffee, realise the game is up and you’ve been found out. Walk away while you still can with a shred of dignity intact. You’re a fool, a fraud, a fake. They humour you but now the show must end. They tire of you, the tired routine, the one trick pony who flattered to deceive but has now fizzled out, the dampest of squibs.
The above words are how I feel some days. They only scratch the surface of the thoughts and emotions within me. We all have them, the inadequacy and doubt which often paralyses and chokes the hopes and dreams inside. When you write, you swing and hit, praying for that sweet, sweet connection that sends the ball sailing on it’s lazy, beautiful trajectory out of the park. It’s so simple, so easy, so worthwhile.
Other times it’s swing and miss, three and out, 4th and long, The ball bounces off the rim as the buzzer sounds and the crowd groan in disappointment. They shake their heads, mutter under their breaths and shuffle off, leaving you alone with rejection and failure. That’s how it feels when your writing sucks, when you give it your best shot and nobody’s home. Screaming into the abyss, all you receive in return is a garbled echo.
Do I give up? No, I do not. I keep going, I persevere, I reflect upon the little victories, the small gains that keep me motivated and hopeful. For without hope, there is nothing. I’ll be back here tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. I owe it to myself, to those who have stood by me when so many others have turned their backs and walked away. I want to prove them wrong, I want to prove myself right.
Some days there is nothing, but that’s not quite true. For there is always something worth fighting for, a crumb at the table. It’s not much but it’s a start. Or a middle, but never an ending. I write these words this morning knowing that it’s out there, all I need to do is hit publish, throw back the covers and see what happens. This is the path I have chosen, I walk it with hope in my heart. One step at a time. Always forward, never back.