Writing is hard. To be specific, finding and harnessing the inspiration to write is hard. Granted, when compared to the more challenging feats of mankind (e.g. building pyramids, quantum physics, 7th-grade math), the prior statement can sound rather silly. None the less, creating strings and blocks of words that somehow might resonate with the reader of those words is challenging. As an illustration, I may or may not have just spent three hours composing this said block of words.
The reasons why this feat can seem daunting are as numerous as the reasons 7th-grade math flummoxes me. To my chagrin, as well as my wife’s, I am not independently wealthy. Quite simply, to keep my belly full and to fund my girls’ Disney travel dependency, full-time employment is my lot in life. Add in life’s other obligations like human social interaction, finding the right motivators for a teenager (pretty sure the formula is X=Y+M x 4.21 + nothing works, what am I doing?) and household chores, and there are limited hours left in a day to sit down and make pretty words.
These obligations also leave little time for life’s more enriching moments. Reading is a writer’s best friend. Few writers can lay claim to inventing meaningful and profound words. By and large, we try to recycle the good ones we’ve read somewhere. I’ve found that I write most freely when I am able to lose myself in some realm of profound thinking. I have learned that profound thought is hard for me to achieve without the presentation of challenging ideas or breathing in the world’s beauty through a writer’s prose. Reading is one of the cornerstones of my own, personal curation.
I also found myself laboring to meet a self-imposed threshold of blog posts. I was forcing the act of writing, creating content for content’s sake. Much of what I was writing, both here and on my travel blog, became mechanical and cold. It often lacked the authenticity required for resonation, offering advice where no advice was solicited. All of this in the hopes of increasing the readership of my work. In an effort to reach more people, I altered my own voice.
Life certainly has a way of entrenching itself in front of one’s more admirable pursuits. It has been no different for me these past few months. It happens in part due to circumstances beyond our control and in no less part due to things that are. And while this is certainly true with my absence of writing of late, perhaps this retreat has been what I needed to re-learn how to harness that elusive inspiration. Even the most precise instrument requires occasional re-calibration. So I set forth in an attempt at a more organic writing experience. I hope you hang around for this next leg of my meandering musings.


