I don’t know what I’m doing. In writing, or in life.
In life, there’s school and work and volunteering. I’m just trying to make it all fit together somehow. Sometimes it feels like taking two puzzle pieces that absolutely do not fit and mashing them with your fist until they’re wedged together. Sometimes, like tonight, it becomes really overwhelming, and I wind up throwing those imaginary puzzle pieces to the floor in frustration.
In writing, I’m just putting words on a page. Literally. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve never done an advice post or a “how-to” post. This is mostly because I don’t feel, I guess, qualified, to do that. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know the “proper” way to write a novel, or the “correct” way to form a poem. I know there isn’t one. We’re all just in this writing game making the rules up as we go. It’s scary and daunting. It’s ridiculous, honestly. Sometimes you’re mashing puzzle pieces and sometimes, miraculously, they fit seamlessly like two long lost souls suddenly reunited.
That’s why I keep doing this. Because when the puzzle pieces fit–there are no words to describe that. It’s amazing.
So, maybe, eventually, life and writing will come together to form one complete puzzle. There may be a few smashed pieces in there (okay, probably a lot), but you know what? At the end of the day, it’ll be my puzzle, my story told through pieces.
So, I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m doing it. One piece at a time.
Go mash some puzzle pieces, friends.
Until next time,