The Sneaky Presence of Doubt: Thursday's Reflection

Several months ago my sister gave me a bag labelled "Revision Rewards." Read here. The bag was full of wrapped presents, and my instructions were to open one of the presents whenever I needed a boost. She knew I was about to embark on a major revision of the first part of my memoir, and this was her creative and generous way to offer her support. Who doesn't love an unsolicited present and what fun it has been to dip into the bag and unwrap a cube of sticky notes or new file folders.  

Now the time has come to begin a major revision of part two, and I needed a present, some inspiration to return to regular writing. The memoir has fallen by the wayside since the beginning of November when I went on the civil rights tour to Alabama and Mississippi. Then there was Thanksgiving and Christmas and a number of teaching/speaking opportunities along the way. All good, but not words on the page. 

And when there is a major gap in writing time, doubt sneaks into the room. I started thinking, "Why am I spending all this time working on a memoir? The chances of it getting published are next to impossible? Besides this is tooooooooo hard, and I love doing so many other things."

My inner dialogue continued, "Maybe I'll just drift away. Who would know and what difference would it make? Think of all the books I could read and all the miles I could walk. I could become more involved in causes that matter to me."

I don't believe in reading to the last page of a book that is boring or not well-written or just isn't the right book for that moment, so why should I continue working on a project that seems unending and eats up so much of my time and energy and may never have an audience anyway. 

Well, you can tell I was close to convincing myself to delete those computer files and toss all the notebooks and yards of paper full of messy drafts. My word of the year is "spaciousness," and I thought about how much more spacious the garret would be if I didn't have all that writing gear and how much more spacious my time would be if I wasn't constantly figuring out how to squeeze in a bit more writing time. 

And, of course, what I needed to do was to sit in silence. 

In the silence, I remembered how I have been in this same space before, the place of re-entering. This takes time. Perhaps you have had the experience of getting together with a friend after not seeing her for awhile, and you are amazed that you can pick up right where your conversation left off. That's great, but no doubt there are still blank spaces that need to be filled in, new information that needs to be shared.  

"I know you. I remember you, but wow, a lot has happened since we were last together. How much time do you have?"

That's what writing can be like, too. Time is needed to get re-acquainted. 

In the silence I thought about how this writing process is a process of self-discovery; a process of leaning into who I was created to be. Through my writing I make some deeper sense of my life, and I think (I hope) I am learning to be more honest and to claim the wisdom getting to this age has brought me. 

In the silence I sense how my writing continues to change me, to live in the world differently. Yes, I would love to think that if my memoir is published someday that someone reading it might be changed or moved, but for now I think my writing changes me. And as I change and grow and deepen, thanks to this process, perhaps people I meet in spiritual direction sessions, in my teaching venues, or just in casual connections, may be affected by my presence. 

In the silence I re-visited the past year, a rich and full year, including writing. Along with many other opportunities, 2018 was The Year of Part One. So now I can say--drum roll, please--2019 will be

                             The Year of Part Two

I write within the context of the rest of my life, and that is what works for me. That doesn't mean not setting aside time for writing. In fact, I have blocked out two full days a week during the coming weeks that are marked on my calendar as

                                       Writing Days

Today is the third of those writing days. After using two of those days to re-immerse myself in the memoir drafts and notes, today I will begin revising chapter one, part 2. 

I won't be alone in the garret, however. Remember the "revision rewards" bag from my sister. I opened another one of the presents and guess what I found: A Word Bird. 

My word bird has found a place to perch near my desk and is singing songs of inspiration and dedication. Who knows where we will fly together.

An Invitation
When have you needed to re-enter, to re-immerse or re-dedicate yourself to something that had been set aside? How have you responded to doubt or fear? I would love to know.