Writing is like taking a shit
In both writing and taking shits, we experience something that is quintessentially human and universal and yet, ironically, it is a solitary journey we must valiantly walk alone. Nevertheless, in both cases it is from the deepest parts of ourselves that the most amazing things emerge.
The urge can hit you at the worst possible time. It can wake you up in the night. It can strike you when you’re in the middle of a sex marathon or the ocean, having drinks with a friend, or on a rollercoaster. Ideal? Hell no. But the urge is there. It’s going to come out of you, whether you like it or not. So you best be prepared for it.
Sometimes it flows from you so freely that it’s terrifying. You can’t believe how much is coming out of you, and you have no idea where it’s all coming from. But don’t question it, just keep going. Later you’ll look back and think “That’s a big pile of shit”, but it’s okay. It’s all part of the process.
It’s an important release. Over time, a lot of bad stuff can build up inside. Toxic stuff, even. It’s just part of the deal of being human. Imagine taking all that bad stuff inside you and turning it into something really impressive — something you may even feel kind of proud of. The best part is no one else needs to see your achievement; it’s just for you.
It’ll come when it’s ready. Sometimes you WANT to do it. You really do. You’re sitting there, you’re trying your best, but nothing is coming out. You may even irrationally be afraid you’ll never be able to do it again. Hey we’ve all been there, but you can’t force it. So go do something else. Let it percolate. Get up and go for a walk. Eat something. Meet a friend. Before you know it, it’ll be effortlessly flowing from you again.
You should try to stay regular. The best thing you can do is get into a routine. I personally prefer doing it in the morning before work. If you sit down to it every single day and give it your all, you’ll get into a healthy routine and, with time, you’ll be amazed by some of the stuff that comes out of you.
I could keep going, but instead I’ll leave you with this.
Writing is also like wrangling a wild horse. You rush at it, arms wide, trying to move it at your will. But you can’t; it’s bigger than you. That’s why we feel fear when we stare into our blank canvases, our blank pages. We feel so small next to this big, beautiful, incomprehensible thing that moves through us, inspires us and then leaves without warning. It’s skittish, impossible to rationalize with, and at times feels downright mystical.
So as you wrestle with it and chase it down, don’t worry if you can’t catch it today. Instead, remember it is a wild thing that can’t be tamed. Let it roam.
