Like so many artists, writers are often ruled by our insecurities. Our desire to share our creativity with the world is often the very thing that terrifies us the most. Having this group of likeminded individuals--many of whom I look up to a great deal--sharing their trials and successes each month has sometimes been the only thing putting my butt back in the chair to keep writing.
So often I've felt that I was doing this writing thing wrong. That there was some piece to this cosmic puzzle that wasn't included with my set. Then, IWSG rolled around and I'd invariably find that ONE other writer who expressed exactly what I was feeling at any given time. And in our business, a small bit of affirmation can go a long way.
IWSG doesn't just give you spoonfuls of confidence and encouragement, it dishes it out in heaps. (There are over 300 members as of this post.) So if you've ever needed a boost, please click the pic below and give the group a look.
Time Marches On
My insecurity this month really isn't an insecurity, just more of a bitter fact of life. I can't control time for others, only what I do with my own. And I REALLY wish I could stop it altogether sometimes.
I live far enough from my 'growing up' home that I'm only able to visit most of my family once every 6 months (sometimes not even that). I'm the youngest of 4 children, my parents are elderly and not in great health. Every time I visit I wonder how much more time I'll have with them. My nieces and nephews grow an inch (or three) between every visit now. My siblings get a few more gray hairs and wrinkles. When you memorize everything about someone because you think about them all the time, it's jarring when your mental images no longer match up to the real thing.
I have a 15 year old chihuahua named Eddy. He has been by my side for many moves and adventures. I'm losing him, and I'd give just about anything to be able to hit a pause button and keep him with me for another 15 years. A dog that is able to grow old and die in a loving home is a lucky dog, because so many have hard, hard lives. But I'm still greedy enough to always want one more day with him.
We've lost some people in our writing-blogging community of late. People you see flash by in your feeds every day. People you've had conversations with. People who've lifted us up. We grow so accustomed to feeling their presence it's absolutely glaring when it's suddenly gone. My heart aches for their families, because I know they are feeling (x 1,000) what I am about time right now. We just need more of it with those we love. Always.
But that's not how life works. It keeps moving even if we stop.
Sometimes I listen to the wonderful Passenger song "Life's For The Living" when I get overwhelmed with these kinds of thoughts. The chorus really brings me back to the proper perspective.
Don't you cry for the lost
Smile for the living
Get what you need and give what you'r given
Life's for the living so live it
Or you're better of dead
Tears for what we've lost or missed are okay and good. But they won't give us any more time. It marches on and we have to try to keep up as best we can. We only have the moments we are given, and it's up to us to cherish them.