Many writers describe their writing as coming from somewhere outside of themselves. For me, that is definitely true. Sometimes, when words want or need to be written, the pressure and emotion behind them becomes unbearable. They must be expressed on the page, regardless of the demands in the world around me.
While highly uncomfortable, it is easy to feel the need to hold words back, especially when faced with the possibility of negative consequences. The feeling that I will be judged by what I have written is often enough to stop me in my tracks. Sometimes, I do not want to experience the emotions that come through me with the words.
You need to remember that when this sort of inspiration strikes, the words are not mine. They do not come from my mind. The feelings they elicit are a fantasy. The things I do in my writing are not what I do (or want to do) in life – like a dream, my mind experiences them, but I do not.
Instead, my words are the ramblings from some other place, some other time… perhaps even the life of another. My job as a writer is not to know everything so that I may write, but to know nothing and let the words come through me – preferably untainted and true to their source.
This sort of writing is about letting go, not trying. About trusting where the words will take you, and accepting them. About allowing them to be as perfect as they need to be.
I wasn’t always able to do this. Not knowing the process, I would try to control it. I mistakenly thought that it was purely about me. Imagine my confusion when I became flooded with emotions, impulses and thoughts that were unfamiliar, yet pushing through me with more force than my own desires.
Soon I learnt to allow these “muses” to come through me, not only to release the pressure they produced. Once I started allowing this flow, I realised that by embracing this other world, it allowed me to live in this world more fully. It balanced my life, so that while I had an otherwise ordinary life, there was a fairy storm brewing in my heart. This was the magic I had always sought to find. These days I embrace it like an old friend.
But the secret ingredient this magic needs is love. Without love, we are unanchored in this world, and flights of fantasy can result in us losing our way or losing ourselves. It is love that accepts that the writer must disappear into this strange world for a while, so that they might return refreshed, cleansed, but with a hint of flying dust still in their hair and a few pieces of leprechaun’s gold in their pockets.
It is being loved that allows a writer to express and feel what they need to, so that they can exist in a state of sanity in a world where nothing makes sense, except the words in their head.
Butterfly, Dreamcatcher & Wheat photos by Pixabay at Pexels