by Paula Gail Benson
Lately, I’ve been facing days with a lot of tasks coming to
me at once. I’ve had to clarify the order and set priorities. Unfortunately,
I’ve often been told all matters are urgent and do the best I can. So, I do,
and hope for the best.
After a flurry of activity, writing is a much stiller, calmer course. Its quietness in fact can be disconcerting and make me wonder, am I able to do this? Can I be alone with my thoughts and create when no one is imposing requirements upon me?
The empty page becomes a frightening thing because it makes no demands upon me. It simply reflects the demands I make upon myself: to produce, and hopefully to do so brilliantly.
When I dispel the feeling of possible failure and convince myself to write, I begin to recognize what a gift it gives me. The time and words are mine to explore. I can center myself on the topic I select and then focus on the elements as I uncover them.
Thanks to the Internet, I can stop briefly to look up definitions; historical, mechanical, or scientific facts; or verify that I’m remembering something correctly. Then I push myself back to my waiting page and develop what I’ve determined to create.
At this moment, I don’t let the pressure of finishing or summarizing make me frantic or turn to AI. These will be my words carefully considered, my discovery new and fresh.
I may be able to visit a place I’ve never seen or return to a familiar spot. Like an actor, I can walk around in a character’s shoes, focusing on what I might fail to notice in the hustle and bustle of everyday existence—maybe even regretting that I might not ordinarily see it.
With pen in hand, I feel the flow of the creative process through my body. I guess I feel it also when my fingers are poised over a keyboard, just in a different way.
I am centered. I am focused. I pursue the creative process alone, but hopefully I will share the results of that process with others.
How is it for you when you come to write after being involved in another experience?
