A Letter to the Editor
For the past month, I have been reading the book Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I think it’s great. I love everything she has to say, because it approaches writing in such a spiritual sense that I’ve never even thought of before! Writing is spiritual, it’s connected to something within yourself, and sometimes people forget that the the words they read came from a voice. This voice has thoughts, opinions, and a whole human experience! People forget that because all they see are words in an order they find appealing.
However, I think I’ve been taking myself too seriously. As I’ve become more and more public about my blog (which I’m super excited about), I’ve started to think more and more about my potential audience. All the people who will be reading, and thinking, and maybe even criticizing. (I know I surround myself with good, kind people, but we all have egos that we like to protect and I guess I can’t help myself from thinking “What is so and so going to think about my garbage writing on a boring, nothing experience?” and then immediately my will to write and share starts to shrink.)
I keep reminding myself of one of my favorite quotes from Natalie herself, “You have permission to write the worst junk in the world.” The whole point is to keep writing. Push through all that resistance, all that doubt and insecurity and keep writing. As someone who is currently sharing their experiences with people, my biggest fear is that I have nothing valuable to say. Natalie talks about this a lot. Sometimes we step away from our writing practice because we start to critique before we ever get going. We always want the good stuff, right away. The deep thoughts, the moving words, the beautiful literature. As if it’s something we can cue up on our mental speed dial. So, when we start to write, we think, “this is not that valuable. This is not good enough.”
“You have permission to write the worst junk in the world.”
Natalie also goes on to say that a lot of the time the Editor and the Creator start arguing within our heads. For me, that is the worst because then nothing gets done. Nothing is written, nothing is shared, and no matter how garbage my opinion is—it doesn’t matter because I don’t make an effort to put it on the page.
What I did was I gave the Editor (the Editor being the meaner part of myself that likes to get in the way and start critiquing) a voice. I typed out all the mean things I had to say to myself, all those secret insecurities, deep rooted fears, and I read it back. Wowza! Once it was on the page and I realized how harsh and unkind I was being to myself, then the Editor’s power over the Creator started to shrink. However, writing just the one letter wasn’t enough for me. So, I’ve decided to write a response back to the Editor, and even share it here! I love to fight the stigma that the people we present online aren’t perfect.
I’m hoping that in the future when I can recognize The Editor bickering with the Creator on an unfinished product, I can reread this letter and remind myself why I’m even blogging in the first place.
Dear Editor,
I understand that I am imperfect. I am human. I firmly believe that the standards people have bestowed upon themselves is absolute bullshit, because in truth, none of us are doing as well as we want people to think we are. The BRAVEST of us are the ones that have the courage to say “I’m a hot mess but I’m trying my best.”
You’re right, I probably have nothing valuable to say. My sentence structure, my grammar, my spelling, it could all use a little work. I was too lazy to take any of those great, AP writing classes in high school because I didn’t have the attention span or drive at the time. But you know what? Now, I’m ready.
This is going to be a process. A long, arduous, learning process. I’m going to find my groove, I’m going to discover what works best for me when I write. Some things are going to be boring and some things are going to be better than I ever intended. What’s the point in writing if I’m going to try and be the next Ernest Hemingway with some random, online platform? No. I’m a human, a regular human. I’m an eighteen-year-old that decided I was letting life pass me by without taking too much time to truly marinate in my experiences. I wanted to start learning and growing, and this is how I chose to do that.
“It’s time to cancel my subscription to other people’s opinions”
I also understand that as I go through this process and share things online, I am going to have an audience. As my Sprinkle of Jesus app literally just told me (gotta love those God winks!), it’s time to cancel my subscription to other people’s opinions. I would actually much rather be exactly who I am, front and center, right there on the page for the whole world to see than pretend I am what somebody else (who may be not that great, by the way) wants. If somebody reads what it is I have to say about my life, sees who I am as a person, and decides they don’t actually like it that much—fantastic! It might just save me some time. What others have to say about me is actually their concern and not mine, so, dear Editor, I need you to stop worrying about the audience. It’s not about them, it’s about me. I am what I am and I choose to share that person at their core, it’s up to the rest of the world to take it or leave it.
Until I’m ready for you to read what I have written, you can sit silent in the backseat. I am creating and I am sharing so that together we can look back, and see how much you and I have grown. I don’t have time for you to start critiquing, judging, and belittling these experiences now.
Together, we are imperfect. Time to be honest, time to accept it, and hell it’s even time to LOVE that shit!
Peace out boo, I’ve got to get back to writing “garbage”.
--Creator.
