There is a level of vulnerability when it comes to writing. A vulnerability that comes from the cracking open of one’s soul to let the inner most, passionate creation out. In the last few months this observation has never been more keen.
When I was traveling, I wrote 5 books in a little over 4 months. Then, when I got back stateside I (and some friends) helped with editing, cover art, publishing and marketing. It was easy.
They were done.
(and you can get your copy today through my online shop)
Now I am looking at the 5 other books I started when I was on the road and have yet to finish with …. well, with exasperation.
I had such high hopes and expectations of myself to have gotten these done. and each day I look at the pile, those expectations just add a serving size amount of stress onto my poor little shoulders.
I ask: Why was it so easy to write when I was on the road, with no home, no job and no car, and it is so damn difficult now that I am back?
Then I realize….
It takes a huge amount of vulnerability to write. It takes a Universe-sized crack in your soul to open up and let the words flow. It is like the birth of a Universe exploding out of your chest.
For this level of creativity, the deep vulnerability, the passion and birth of something so wonderous, there is one secret little thing I’ve been missing. One thing I had when I was traveling, one little thing in which I soon hope to have again very soon.
Not physical safety, but the emotional kind. The mental space and emotionally safe surroundings to crack through a hard candy shell and reach inside to pull out all the passionate, sticky, universe-exploding, deliciousness.
But don’t worry, things are shifting changing and moving and I am too. Very soon, I will be all happy and settled and warm and safe and get back to my debaucherious rantings, writings and wriggly good times.