As a writer, or just like any other “hobby” or career, one discovers things. One of them is that if I am in a bad mood, cranky or sick then I don’t feel like writing. Using my brain is not a priority in these cases. All I want is quiet, possibly a movie and lots of sleep. Can you identify?
This annoys me though. I want to be a flexible writer, one whom adapts to any given set of circumstances. To have the same creativity to write whether I’m sick, or healthy. Whether I’m sad, or happy. Whether I’m in a snow storm in January, or a beautiful summer’s day. Whether I’m naked in Kazakhstan, or buried alive in Budapest. Are you reading me?
So here I am, forcing this post. Nah, the words are coming just like they always do and I’m glad to be discovering this. It makes me think of musicians, whom apparently write some of their best material when they’re feeling low, or less than happy at the least. Knowing our strengths, then throwing chaos at them…if it stands through the fire then it truly is worth something. If we crumble and take the excuse train, then…well, we’re only human. I can find some safety in this.
Is there a moral to the story? I think it’s pretty obvious. After all, this little personal “social experiment” included me and me alone. To be human is okay, I mean we are who we are. To be an adapter when the so called “chips” are down is to face a wall and barrel straight through it. And the latter gives us something that can’t be bought or created.
I want to be able to shine amidst any emotion and any circumstance. I don’t want negative feelings dictating my ability to create. I can’t stand the thought of being a procrastinator. Instead, I will follow through.