The Hardest Thing to Do in Writing
It is perhaps the most vicious, the darkest challenge any writer can face when sitting in front of the blank page, be it a screen or a piece of paper. Timmy, hello, today I am presenting a friendly reminder not just for you but for others as well. Let’s review the two scenarios together.
In the first, you are there, staring at the blinking cursor where the words are going to be written once you start inputting information through the keyboard. But you draw a blank—there is nothing on the page to hold onto; you will have to create from scratch. This is already a losing proposition, a terrifying thing because, for some, it is easier to grab onto what has already been written. However, a blank slate? For some reason, it is a terrifying force. The weight of possibilities, the infinite number of things that can be expressed onto the blank page, is overwhelming. Not to mention that you have the very human worry that what you are writing is correct, is any good.
On top of that is the permanent threat of distractions—music, games, books, series, movies, anything really. Constantly blinking, constantly calling our attention, taking away that precious resource from what we should be doing. After all, attention takes practice and dedication to learn, like any other skill. Compounded by the fact that deep down, we know what we should be doing. Even though we surrender to distractions and fear, we know it, and it makes us feel worse—more afraid and more insecure. All of this inner world shenanigans doesn’t change the fact that there still is a blank screen that needs to have words written, and you need to meet the deadline. So, you sit there, panicking.
Second Scenario: You are using pen and paper, which has the added factor of being painfully slow and hard to correct any mistakes, adding to your anxiety.
So, anxiety eats at us, making it next to impossible to perform the hardest thing in writing.
Have Fun.
No, Timmy, I am not joking. It is perhaps the hardest thing anyone can face, and most people forget about it. I live in a big city, a large one at that—one of those where a person can go missing, and no one would care. So large that the coming and going of the people make it feel like a living pulse. The beast wakes early, reaching a fever pitch of activity in the morning. It slows around 9 in the morning, but the activity doesn’t cease all day; it just ebbs. Until the afternoon, when it can reach a breaking point of people wanting to return home in desperation. I think I don’t need to tell you how frenetic Fridays are. Then at night, it sleeps but never stops. In all the desperation of coming and going, people forget to make time for happiness, for contentment. Sure, they skid from outing to outing, maybe a mall or some other leisure activity, but during the days I used to walk the city, in buses, taxis, and, God help me, the subway, I never once saw a happy soul, a person having fun.
This gave me pause. This is something that I have given a lot of thought to. Yes, Timmy, this is related to writing. Just let me ramble for a bit; it has a purpose. I have no distinct answer for this, too great of a question for a single man, but it comes to mind when I sit down to write.
When anxiety rears its head, when the tiny demon of fear grows its shadows, that question is in my head. Is this something that should bring me joy? Is this something that I should enjoy? Why is it affecting my head?
Well, a proper answer for that comes from a book, but we will give it the duly attention it deserves in due time, especially because I want to give the author proper respect. For now, though, I want you to know, and as a reminder for myself too, Timmy, a reminder that the hardest thing in writing is the most precious. Yes, sometimes it should hurt while writing, but at the end of the day, it should be fun. It should give you joy and satisfaction. Not misery.
Just forgive my ramblings. Until next time.
