2017 was a year of few words for me. I wrote, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t write nearly as much as normal. Worse, as the year went on my words careened to an abrupt halt.
Now I stare at the page, be it blank and yearning for words or finished and needing polishing, and question everything about myself as a writer. Can I still write? Do I know how? Is my head cleared enough to tackle the bigger picture issues? Will my words be the same or different?
Most of this boils down to fear. I have seen many other writers wonder how to write again so I know I am not alone. But I’m also coming back from a very difficult year. Non productivity has become habit. I’m now on medication, still dealing with mental health issues. Which makes me wonder even harder: can I do this?
Have I recovered enough? My muse is chomping at the bit, ready to get out. Writing has always been a primary food for me. It’s part of who I am, my soul, my essence. I know I never want to stop, never want to quit. And yet that nagging curse of doubt persists.
Do I even know what I’m doing anymore?
I’m taking the New Year as an opportunity to push myself back into my words. It won’t be easy, I’m sure I’ll have set backs. But I am a writer. I have stories to tell. Characters to share. I have my own unique spin on my genre, on portraying characters with hearing loss. On putting little pieces of myself on the page.
I will not be defeated by myself. But I will listen to myself. If I need to rest, I shall rest. If I need to push, I will push. One way or another, 2018 will be a year of getting back to myself. Of recovery through words.
I can. And I will.