My writing streams rushed together. The words and ideas became turbulent, muddied and entangled, becoming too much, too much.
What had happened?
It’s always in me to be analytical and introspective, to explain and try to understand myself, in hopes that I can reach productive and lasting peace with myself. So I asked, what happened to the writing process. I was writing. The flows of words and ideas were strong and potent. I was almost keeping up. Then, overnight, it unraveled.
In the stillness of my pre-walking walks, insights arrived.
- The flows were too intense. I’d been keeping up. Now, I’d failed. I wanted to write everything at once. Chaos resulted from impatience.
- I’d seen the movie Black Panther. I enjoyed it, but it was a catalyst for new ideas. Just like I sometimes – hell, most of the time – read a book and enjoy it, I wanted to incorporate new thoughts and directions, because I liked how them in the movie. A purge of that was required.
- Doubts; I was suffering doubts about whether I was up to understanding the story, and keeping up as a writer sufficiently to present the story.
Thinking and walking it out helped walk me back from the metaphorical ledge of despair on which I found myself. Well, I’m off the ledge but I remain a little unsettled. Write through it, I tell myself, and hope to hell that works. Oddly, while walking, I thought about a dream I had, and that helped a great deal to come to a palatable understanding about my inner dynamics and anxieties.
Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.