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A Deep Breath
Almost every self-help and personal improvement book I've read, from "The Artist's Way" to like "The Four Agreements", says that daily journaling is a major step towards a better relationship with oneself. Here, I can acknowledge negative thoughts in a relatively safe environment and work through them until I have a better handle on them.
The problem is that it's really hard to find the time for even 30 minutes of journal-writing. Right now I'm taking a "work break" for it, since chances are I'm going to be working late anyway. :) I'm not sure if this is a viable solution moving forward, but it works for now. Work has been generally cool about taking the "as long as the work gets done" mindset, but there are also a lot of time-sensitive things to deal with. We'll see, but I'd definitely like to get into the habit of daily journaling. Fingers crossed!
I'm struggling these days to find my way back to writing and I'm not entirely clear why. Whenever I sit down to write, I think about what I'm working on and how it's likely to be muddled and disinterested because I can't quite grasp the clarity of what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm trying to say with any given story, or if I *should* be trying to say anything, just letting myself discover my message as I go. But then I'm never sure how a story is going to be received -- and maybe part of that is that my own ambivalence with my writing bleeds through the work itself. I'm not as good at hiding my emotions as I think, and who wants to read someone wrestling through emotions they're not sure how to express?
Hi folks reading this journal. >.>
I keep hoping that steeping myself into writer's spaces by reading more books or listening to discussions about writing will help, and it has. I'm developing a good internal language to think about my stories, identify previously-nebulous problems, and figure out ways to address them. At the same time, I don't want to fall into the trap of overthinking a story until I'm sick of it. That often happens before I've finished a single scene.
On some level, I think I know the answer here: clear away the noise of worrying about the craft or the reception or even my own shortcomings, and bring my attention fully to the scene at hand. That's easier said than done, at least at first. Part of me knows that if I just managed to break through the initial resistance I'd probably get something going. But another part of me also knows that if I read back over what I've written I'll hate it with no idea how to fix it. Chances are I'll keep erasing my own progress, again and again, until writing seems like a futile exercise.
It's frustrating that this is the last aspect of my life where my perfectionism and anxiety is still blocking me. Over the last several months, I've managed to put my fears about almost everything else into perspective. I've learned to be kinder to myself, recognize my limitations while not beating myself up over them, and actually work on improving myself with the right balance of understanding and ambition. I'm a lot more comfortable with myself than I have been, and I'm finding my way "back" to myself.
But writing is a different beast, man. All of the thoughts in my head just jumble up into an unrecognizable mass, and it's exceedingly difficult to pick a thread and run with it, you know? I think I'm stuck in this paradigm where stories have to be...a public response to socio-political currents running through society, and I'm never NOT conscious of that. But it's really hard to write good old-fashioned furry porn under that filter. Especially with kink, which plays with obviously immoral, dubiously-consentual behavior. Is it possible to be a social justice cleric and ALSO write stories that uphold this narrative of toxic power, especially for the purposes of titillation? How can we be open about being into size- and power-play while also being responsible advocates of intersectional liberation?
I really wish I could feel...less responsible about the things I'm putting out into the world, but it's something really important for me to get right. But here's the thing: I'm never going to get it right unless I experiment. I'm going to make a few wrong turns or hit a few blind alleys before I finally find my path. I get that logically, but I still get thrown directly into fight, flight, or freeze when actually faced with that inevitability of failure.
This might be a story for another campfire, but I think I feel this immense pressure not to fail in general. Part of it is...just looking at the consequences for failure in this climate. As a Black person, it's not easy to get an opportunity and when I do I have to make the most of it because not only will *I* not get another chance but the Black folk coming up behind me might not either, based on what I do.
In social justice and furry circles, one little pebble out of place can trigger an avalanche of scorn that gets you buried under all kinds of hatred. I'm not going to entertain the narrative that it's so hard for people in positions of privilege, because that's largely BS. But I've also seen a distinct lack of proportion in response to mistakes or problematic behavior. I know that my newfound equanimity won't stand up to an Internet shitstorm yet, and I don't want to put anything out there that might trigger an avalanche.
Ultimately, I think I need to make writing personal again. These are the things I think about. This is what I like. This is the kind of world I want to see. As I get better at expressing myself, I can start thinking about everything else. But for now, this will have to take care of itself in some way.
The problem is that it's really hard to find the time for even 30 minutes of journal-writing. Right now I'm taking a "work break" for it, since chances are I'm going to be working late anyway. :) I'm not sure if this is a viable solution moving forward, but it works for now. Work has been generally cool about taking the "as long as the work gets done" mindset, but there are also a lot of time-sensitive things to deal with. We'll see, but I'd definitely like to get into the habit of daily journaling. Fingers crossed!
I'm struggling these days to find my way back to writing and I'm not entirely clear why. Whenever I sit down to write, I think about what I'm working on and how it's likely to be muddled and disinterested because I can't quite grasp the clarity of what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm trying to say with any given story, or if I *should* be trying to say anything, just letting myself discover my message as I go. But then I'm never sure how a story is going to be received -- and maybe part of that is that my own ambivalence with my writing bleeds through the work itself. I'm not as good at hiding my emotions as I think, and who wants to read someone wrestling through emotions they're not sure how to express?
Hi folks reading this journal. >.>
I keep hoping that steeping myself into writer's spaces by reading more books or listening to discussions about writing will help, and it has. I'm developing a good internal language to think about my stories, identify previously-nebulous problems, and figure out ways to address them. At the same time, I don't want to fall into the trap of overthinking a story until I'm sick of it. That often happens before I've finished a single scene.
On some level, I think I know the answer here: clear away the noise of worrying about the craft or the reception or even my own shortcomings, and bring my attention fully to the scene at hand. That's easier said than done, at least at first. Part of me knows that if I just managed to break through the initial resistance I'd probably get something going. But another part of me also knows that if I read back over what I've written I'll hate it with no idea how to fix it. Chances are I'll keep erasing my own progress, again and again, until writing seems like a futile exercise.
It's frustrating that this is the last aspect of my life where my perfectionism and anxiety is still blocking me. Over the last several months, I've managed to put my fears about almost everything else into perspective. I've learned to be kinder to myself, recognize my limitations while not beating myself up over them, and actually work on improving myself with the right balance of understanding and ambition. I'm a lot more comfortable with myself than I have been, and I'm finding my way "back" to myself.
But writing is a different beast, man. All of the thoughts in my head just jumble up into an unrecognizable mass, and it's exceedingly difficult to pick a thread and run with it, you know? I think I'm stuck in this paradigm where stories have to be...a public response to socio-political currents running through society, and I'm never NOT conscious of that. But it's really hard to write good old-fashioned furry porn under that filter. Especially with kink, which plays with obviously immoral, dubiously-consentual behavior. Is it possible to be a social justice cleric and ALSO write stories that uphold this narrative of toxic power, especially for the purposes of titillation? How can we be open about being into size- and power-play while also being responsible advocates of intersectional liberation?
I really wish I could feel...less responsible about the things I'm putting out into the world, but it's something really important for me to get right. But here's the thing: I'm never going to get it right unless I experiment. I'm going to make a few wrong turns or hit a few blind alleys before I finally find my path. I get that logically, but I still get thrown directly into fight, flight, or freeze when actually faced with that inevitability of failure.
This might be a story for another campfire, but I think I feel this immense pressure not to fail in general. Part of it is...just looking at the consequences for failure in this climate. As a Black person, it's not easy to get an opportunity and when I do I have to make the most of it because not only will *I* not get another chance but the Black folk coming up behind me might not either, based on what I do.
In social justice and furry circles, one little pebble out of place can trigger an avalanche of scorn that gets you buried under all kinds of hatred. I'm not going to entertain the narrative that it's so hard for people in positions of privilege, because that's largely BS. But I've also seen a distinct lack of proportion in response to mistakes or problematic behavior. I know that my newfound equanimity won't stand up to an Internet shitstorm yet, and I don't want to put anything out there that might trigger an avalanche.
Ultimately, I think I need to make writing personal again. These are the things I think about. This is what I like. This is the kind of world I want to see. As I get better at expressing myself, I can start thinking about everything else. But for now, this will have to take care of itself in some way.