Sorry this is way after-the-date, but I forgot how to post on the blog so please pretend it’s New Years Day again…
It’s Shira, your long lost blogger here (well, if writing two entries a year ago makes me a blogger…), but I plan on being very present in ’09!
My junior year craziness has made me lose sight of what it really means to write as a form of therapy, to write purely for the sake of writing, to write to make sense of myself. Without Morgan or Girls Write Now, I seriously fear that I would never take a pen to paper for the sake of original thoughts.
So, this new years, I am not making a self-improvement resolution (face it: those only damage the self-esteem of the creative); I am making a self-acceptance resolution. The act of writing allows me to accept myself as I am in the present, no strings attached. The reason I, as a writer, struggle with self-improvement resolutions is because writing is about documenting the past and present. Self-improvement is about being ashamed of the past, dumping it, and reworking the present to shape the future. But that is not how writers write. Whether it is fiction, poetry, or journalism, I do not write to predict the future; my writing unravels the future.
I did a few things here and there for New Years Eve, but nothing big and I was a little restless. Then, at around 11pm, I accepted myself. I accepted that I was inside on this freezing New Years Eve and that I was inside specifically to write.
The residue of trying to push unwilling words out from the keyboard when writing my application essays for a summer program, I was faced with writer’s block. Upon exploring my packed bookshelf, I emerged with my glorious copy of Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. Though I have read these pages before, they seemed like new possibilities when I perused them last night.
I chose the first writing prompt on Goldberg’s list of 15: Tell about the quality of light coming in through your window. Jump in and write. Don’t worry if it is night and your curtains are closed or you would rather write about the light up north—just write.
And that is just what I did. I wrote two beautifully pointless original pages in my relatively new journal (an amazing gift from my two great friends for my seventeenth birthday) and I understood what I needed to understand: that my presence lies on the page, that I have an amazing writerly support system in this book and in Girls Write Now. Knowing that I have this support to rely on, I can resolve to write for the present, to write for me (and, of course, for this blog of which I can hope for new readers).
Does anyone else have any readerly or writerly resolutions for ’09?