I’ve been struggling with this over the last 24 hours, and have too many times over the last 24 years. Or more. 27 and counting, this summer, since I wrote my first novel. Yet I’m still as disconnected now as I was then. And I think that’s the key issue for me – CONNECTION.
Which is funny, really, if you know all the facts and are able to sit down and think about it, because, aside from perhaps twenty short stories and maybe four novels, I’ve never really committed to trying to connect as well as I could. Or should. Because I’ve not submitted. And if I don’t submit how can another read? And if another can’t read me, or isn’t aware of me, how can we ever possibly connect?
I see myself type, BABY STEPS. Just one step, of course, one after the other, and preferably baby versions, so we don’t overstep and stumble or fall.
I see myself type, TIME. All in time. Time will tell. Time will show. And I should heed my own words, and try not to rush, not want to rush.
I see myself type, JOURNEY. It’s about the journey more than the destination, but if I find myself spending too much time considering the connection-to-come then surely I’ve lost touch with the journey, with the moment.
I’m struggling for something to read – to connect TO.
I’m struggling for something to write – to connect THROUGH.
And I’m struggling for someone to read – to connect WITH.
So, with this unholy trinity haunting my every finger flex and brain fart, is it any wonder I’m sitting here typing a post such as this?
At least these days I’m actively trying to connect, putting words out there, feeling what’s in others’ hearts and minds when I read their posts, occasionally sharing something more personal via email. Aspects of my heart-in-words are now downloadable, in bite-sized chunks, and yet they mostly remain unfelt, unfound, and I find myself wondering more and more if what an old friend once said (and we fought over) is true – that my writing moments are waste.
I hear these words, but hate to consider all this as a PLATFORM, as a MEANS, as a MARKETING TOOL, as if I’m ONLY forging connections so they (and their readers) come visit me and see my words and want to share with me. And I don’t, not deep down, but marketing always does this to me.
And yet, if I don’t try this, if I pull back under some writerly delusion, or belief that I’m soiling my soul by trying to sell, am I not further harming? Am I not focusing again on the destination rather than losing myself completely in the momentous journey? If I was fully committed to the moment, to the connection as everything, couldn’t I distance myself from the darker, disliked aspects required to find the true moment I seek?
It’s difficult – hold the presses! Heh.
But, as much as I dislike it feeling like a platform rather than something more natural, more human, if I accept that connection these days comes with these e-worries and web-concerns, and I at least approach it all with an honest, open and loving heart, shouldn’t I feel confident that these things are at least being approached in the “right” way, and so any doubts and concerns I have can be justifiably and righteously discarded?
I don’t know. I say/type all this, yet my brain sinks back to one point while my heart soars to another, with any possible connection lying somewhere between the two. It’s in the balancing, I guess. And most days I feel a tad unbalanced. I was hoping all THIS was leading me toward something stronger, something closer, something more.
Baby steps, I know.
Time, I know.
Journey, I know.
Connection, I don’t know. But hope to.
Thank you for listening. If you still are. 😉