The Write Way

Goose loves to paint. She's always begging me to get the paint out. I'm always resisting; too much added mess in a house that doesn't really need any help being messy. Plus, I'm too cheap to go buy water-based paint when I have a box full of acrylic craft paint (left over from a service project 3 years ago) that needs to be used up. I have to be hyper-vigilant about the paint staying ONLY on the paper so we have no stains. Not an easy task when highly distractible three-year-old starts finger painting. I turned my back on her for 5 minutes last time, in that time she had mixed her paint to create a very beautiful deep purple and adorned herself with it up to her elbows.

Apparently, Goose is also always painting at preschool. The papers that come home are never ending and her teacher constantly jokes with me about her propensity to create art, painting in particular. Even the teacher whose class meets before ours has noticed that there are an unbalanced number of "Goose" labeled projects hanging to dry. I'm happy to let the majority of painting happen at preschool.

Even though I'm not always up for the mess, I'm thrilled that Goose has such a drive to create. I believe that the drive to create is a divine gift. Creation feeds a deep hunger in our souls that lurks almost undetected until we feel the warmth of satiation. Each person fulfills that need in a different way; some create art, others music, some cook, or write computer software.

I used to think it didn't matter how you created, as long as you were doing something. But, I was wrong. I have a friend who loves crafting. She makes everything from hand-felted gloves to baby slings. She's extraordinarily skilled and very imaginative in coming up with projects. It's very obvious that doing this gives her energy. I enjoy sewing and we have collaborated on a few projects. It's been fun to have someone who appreciates a trip to the fabric store as much as I do.

Things escalated when we decided to sell some of our handiwork at a preschool fundraiser. I focussed almost exclusively on my projects for a week. I fussed, I ignored children and eating and in the end I had 4 completed items. My friend had over 40. Happily, I did sell 2 items, but I went home pondering the different degrees of fulfillment the event had given each of us. I found myself fighting waves of jealousy that so often beset me in the presence of talented people. But this jealousy was a little different. I wasn't jealous so much of her talent, but of the satisfaction and energy it gives her. Then I heard a whisper in my ear: You are spending your time doing the wrong thing. You need to write.

I felt like I had awoken from a long, hazy dream. The solution seemed so clear. I've known that I should write from Middle School, but I've never pursued it with vigor. I am paralyzed with a fear of failure. What if I should write something that is not good. What if I try to write that book and never get it done. How embarrassing. If I don't write, I can't say I failed, I can only say I never tried. And of course, I have a million reasons why I was prohibited from trying. But when I do write (and especially when I know what I wrote was quality stuff), I get that high, that energy and that fulfillment I see in the eyes of my crafting friend and my daughter.

With this realization, this transparency to self, I have committed to overcome my fears and take some real steps toward really writing. This blog is part of my therapy. Putting my writing out there for public viewing (and comment! Ack!). It makes me vulnerable to the core. But it is making me a better writer. And a happier person.