“Just get to the sex!” she’d say. “Don’t worry so much about what is happening before, just write a scene.
I will also dance and dance around writing in general. Those dishes always need to be done, the coffee always consumed before anything, and of course I MUST FIND that picture from someplace, taken by who knows back in 2012 while eating a cupcake.
My brain likes to say, “These are urgent matters”, while my heart is patiently waiting for me to put my ass in the chair and fingers to the keyboard.
On a deeper level there is perfectionism poking me with her long manicured nail. She stops an idea in its tracks before I can find the paper to write on or the blank document to pull up.
Perfectionism is a people pleasing bitch who has no time for shitty rough drafts, or weird thoughts. She’s critical, judgy, and is always wearing the white glove to swipe over anything creative and deem it unfit for public consumption.
I do not produce all of the work I want because I let her and her *bestest*, Fear, take over.
It’s familiar and comfortable walking around with these two chattering behind my back. I’m learning to distance myself more to hear my own thoughts, to feel my own feelings and see what comes from that place.
That’s when I decided to go for this sex-scene-a-day extravaganza. I wanted to keep each piece under 300 words, use one document to track how many words I’d end up with at the end, (6,841!) and simply write whatever came to mind.
I wanted to prove to myself that its little bits of action that make things happen. Perfectionism and Fear like to say I’m “not ready” and how I need to “work” a little more on something before posting it so much so that I’d rather procrastinate than deal with whatever idea or draft I have.
In thirty days I learned that I *do* have time to create a little something every day. I learned that I can create in the middle of a shitstorm, and I can use those emotions for the greater good of my work. I can be present with myself and where I am instead of striving for someplace else.
Most importantly, I learned that my voice can be trusted, and all I have to do is listen.