I Write; A Challenge From Chris Mills
Two Buddies for a Ride
I write. Writing is all I do? So many these days find it hard to do what they do. To write is my calling. A hand writing to a friend. A sermon. Writing for work. Writing for pleasure. There is the problem which is the opposite for others. My writing is my sanctuary. I do not hide from writing, I write. I hide from the World by writing. People laugh at me because I am a writer. Perhaps correctly so as I live in a writing place. But saying you are a writer is like saying you will be president. Funny to most and please hold that thought.
Oh for sure I am a doting and commanding parent. In ripe age I am still a student. In ripe age I am a father to a 10 year old and a wife pleasing dad. Yet it is in this stage, I am writing. I like the idea of a muse but I have a bug. I hide in isolation so I can write. I escape from the world I should live in to converse with the directors of writing. Maybe you do it a little with photography or gardening. How about painting making your home “just so”. I try to get out of the way and let my wife do “her thing” she deserves the space like she gives me.
One of the hardest tasks in life is letting others get their own “groove on”. I am awesome at being the producer, Director, Screenplay writer and leading actor. How unfulfilling that is. But leaning back and letting someone else run their own rig through the ways of life is fulfilling and wonderful. My muse tells me to lighten up, take a backseat and stop trying to control her and others.
Oh the brutality. I am so important that you should do things just the way I see it. Balderdash I say. When it is time for me to give unsolicited advise my wife gives a nod and a wink and sends me to my corner to write. Alright sometimes she tells me to weed or take out the garbage. Thank God for soulmates. Nothing better than taking out the garbage on a star studded night with just a hint of moon.
Can you even imagine I just wrote about something like taking out garbage? I have some serious issues.
They Are Starting to Unwind
Get Them Chores Done Boy So You Can Play
Back to writing and inspiration. It seems I just spilled the beans. From what I gather we are supposed to be inspired to write. Or at least something like that. I am the thing that sticks when you spill the beans. I write to inspire myself. It would make me wonder if that makes sense. Do not get me wrong. Sometimes I just have to sit down and write, like it or not it is a “job” that I take seriously. But hey I have to force myself sometimes to take a shower or go for a walk in nature. Odd, as I like them both. Is that depression I wonder? You figure it out as I am busy writing.
So that muse thing has me baffled a bit. It almost seems like the muse does not make me write or give me something to write about. Too often that is just the hard work. But the muse is more like a deal where I feel better about writing and what I wrote. Sometimes I just do not feel all that good. I look at things negatively. I have a real tendency to be overly self critical. Can it be cloudy on an uncloudy day? Well in my world it can. There are outstanding painters that painted when they hated themselves. You can see it in their art. And yet years later the painting comes out of the attic and is acclaimed. I wonder if my poetry should leave the closet more. Perhaps the muse will decide for me and I can shirk my responsibility of sharing to acclaim or ridicule.
Oh Lordy I was out trimming my roses just yesterday. I started to feel like I was doing it all wrong and they would be ugly. And so when I woke up this morning and inspected, well they were ugly. I was afraid to shape and cut too much off. No, not a failure, just a failed attempt. I think I just did and did not try. Makes sense to me.
I have got to go “weed”. Don’t want to, but you cannot be a good weeder when you do not weed. Perhaps I do too much weeding in my garden of writing. Do you do too much weeding in your garden of your creativity? Let you be the planter and me be the weeder, I will let you know what needs to be pulled.
Just Our Little Farm
Someone Told Me Long Ago
A Sunny Day
Oh boy, I have found so many things to do. Other than do what I must. I just sat down here to write some more but my muse is telling me what chores I must do before the voices telling me what to do will shut up. And who would think life could be that simple yet so darned complicated in our God given little brains. Yes at this moment I am resisting doing the work that I have got to do, and my muse is likewise resisting my creativity. Just guess who always wins this battle.
Inner voices are not muses or overcoming resistance. They are a pain in the butt.
My wife was just, not happy, with me. Why did that bother me more than me not being happy with me? I think I will just go get frozen and think about that. Or hey! I could just do the work I was given to do. Strange but it works out better when I do the work and get criticized than when I don’t do the work and get criticized for that. That seems more normal than not but I still procrastinate.
Yahoo I am back. It really is too hot for me to work outside. And enough with cleaning the spice containers and rack. I now have other things to do like nap. Ok off to the clothes donation place. Maybe that tool shelf in the garage needs that brace hammered in and the voting ballot needs to be looked at for the tenth time. Maybe I should look at the news. Ok?
I did the brace and donation deal and cooked a crazy kid meal for lunch. Did you know you can put all the needed vegetables in a vegan hotdog deal? This world is wild.
My muse is licking his chops he now owns me. Piano practice and class for the boy and it is my wife’s phone time.
So what brilliance do I have to impart. It is so cool, I get to write and you get to decide. My muse and I would enjoy some nasty harsh criticism, something for us to mull over together, you know that bonding over adversity stuff.
Me, I am smoking that great big cigar with a snifter of brandy and a huge library of books and Beethoven playing and working on my novel. OK none of that is true. Not one bit. But a muse can take you anywhere.
I never make a point but the point is this; Oops I don’t know. I have to work at getting my monkey brain satisfied and then I can sit down and enjoy my friends, muse and writing. Can you believe it? I just finished this. A mystery.