The Journey Inward

I savored these words in my current read, Horse, by Geraldine Brooks: “Theo pressed the delete key and watched the letters march backward into oblivion. All that was left was the blinking cursor, tapping like an impatient finger.”

That image very much encapsulated my feelings about writing sometimes, mostly when I’m stuck, I’ve been given a prompt or the precise word eludes me! The march backward into oblivion is powerful personification. I compose on a computer more than 75% of the time and always panic a bit when I delete my words, worrying that I won’t find a better way to say them after all or that I will forget where I was going with my thought. It’s like I sigh with relief every time I remember that I can hit undo and get it all back!

The idea of the blinking cursor being a finger tapping impatiently also resonated. Most times I sit down with a pretty well formed idea and the words just flow. But every once in awhile, I get stumped, especially if I’m writing an on-demand essay, and I feel like that persistent flashing is indicting me, a comment on my lack of clarity or precision or creativity.

But what a treasure when an author’s words inspire me. In this case, I was reading over breakfast a few weeks back and snapped a picture of the page because I knew I would want to come back to it at some point and write about it. I treasure the writing of others because it fuels me, fills me, invites me to write. I don’t waste time comparing my style or content or feedback, but rather let their work simmer and marinate and flavor my thoughts, my ideas, my own work.

Writing is truly a gift we share. Our words have the ability to impact so many without us ever necessarily knowing who and how. That’s the beauty of something so personal. It is meant for us, but when shared with others, it seems as though it is meant for them, too.