on writing, existing, and DJs?

I'm back?!

It has been a minute since we last spoke. I unintentionally went on a summer hiatus from substack. While I didn’t do any writing for Out of My Mind - I did a lot of writing for a bigger project I have been working on.

I have been working on a novel!

It’s very scary to say that so confidently to you all but it’s true. While, it has been a (very) slow work in progress - it is so far a story I’m very proud of and I hope to be able to share it with you all one day.

So, now you know that my fictional little world has been taking up a lot of writing juice. This summer was fun and thrilling. I pushed myself in a lot of ways to be outside more and try new things. I feel like I am now on the come down of it all. I say this every year but my birthday being at the tail end of the most nostalgic month of the year was some kind of twisted fate.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently…well..about everything.

Literally everything.

The state of our terrifying world. My future both near and distant. My health. My body. Who I am as a woman and as a friend.

My brain has been a weird place where I jump from crippling fear and anxiety to loads of love and gratitude. Writing and reading has always been my escape from the horrors, both the ones I create in my head and the ones we see unfold on our screens everyday.

But the longer I spend writing and working towards a dream I’ve had for years, the more daunting it really becomes. Recently, it has become less of enjoying the process of creating and more worrying about the outcome.

I recently read this post by Offline Soul - which has me thinking a lot about what it means to a writer. As an avid reader and someone who continually posts about books online- it’s easy to get trapped in the headspace of asking myself “what is this all for?” or “how do I get to do that?”

There have been countless times that I’ve read something extraordinary and convinced myself it’s better to quite while I’m ahead. I always tell myself that maybe it’s time to put the imaginary pen down…

If I’m being honest on most days I would admit that I am a shit writer. Most of the time I write something and I reread it and genuinely question what made me think this was something I could do. Based on every writer I’ve ever had the pleasure of speaking with, most of us feel that way.

I’ve been thinking a lot of when I realized that literature and writing was something I’m passionate about. When I figured out that storytelling was what I was meant to do - things started making sense. The silly made-up narratives I’d give random strangers walking down the street. My love for movies, tv, and music.

It all made sense.

When I officially decided to study literature and seriosuly start writing - it was the first time I felt at peace.

—

One thing that had always trapped me in my existential thoughts- was the idea that I can’t be everything all at once. I wanted to experience it all every place, job, lifestyle, and take every single path.

“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.” - Sylvia Plath

When I started to write, it started to scratch that itch. I felt like even through words I got a taste of what I always wanted. I could be in any world or in the mind of anyone I could make up.

It was truly liberating.

When I think of myself as a writer and my intentions, I think of this quote by Anaïs Nin:

“We write to taste life twice.”

I’m not trying to write anything groundbreaking or deeply profound. Being creative is scary. It’s scary to be vulnerable and do something you love even though you may not be great at it. Especially when you feel like you’re not doing anything novel or extraordinary to become the next big thing.

This is all to say that I don’t really know if my writing and creative expression is or will ever be worth much to others.

But what I do know is the peace it brings me and the ability to get in touch with the creativity swimming in my head.

Maybe this whole post is just to convince myself (using Dani Offlines words) that I’m okay being a dancer. I don’t have to be the DJ, the maker, or the genius.

Maybe it’s okay to just be a girl who sits on her bed getting lost in her own words. Okay just simply being a reader, admirer, and fan.

Maybe the world doesn’t ever have to tell me I’m good.

Maybe I can just try to start believing it myself.