Thursday, December 11, 2014

Filler and fluff

In 2012, soon after I'd started writing The Songs of Spring, I decided I wanted to contribute to my then brand new blog on a daily basis. It was a scary idea, and it no doubt took its toll on the busiest of days. But looking back, I am proud of the hours spent committed to the art of writing. Even if this blog took me into the wee hours of the morning some days and often forced me to fight to stay awake while my eyes closed and my brain started to gently dream, it was still all worth it.

But back then (in 2012), there were aspects of my life that made it easier to write every day. I embarked on a study abroad trip to London for three months out of the year. In the other nine months, I was at university in the states and then an intern at a major TV studio.

My life felt a lot more interesting two years ago than it does right this very moment. In my eyes, at least.

Back then this meant if I needed to take a break to write about nothing for a night, I had the option. Because in 2012, even nothing was something.

Nowadays, things in life aren't so smooth and clear. A day in the life is hazier, and I sometimes don't want to share all my innermost thoughts, nor the detailed goings-on of my day to day existence.

Yet to be able to write in a blog on a daily basis, sometimes you have to be able to provide filler. Whether that be a sub-standard journal-type entry or, like I did many times - a photo compilation.

Just like in life, being a consistent writer is about powering through the good and the bad. Some moments will be high points, others lows. If you're going to improve in a craft, you have to take everything in stride. If you're going to live a happy life, you have to be at peace with both the great days and the less than exciting ones.

It's inevitable, as we live out our lives numbered by dates on a calendar, that some of those days will disappoint us. Some will simply not be worth sharing. But finding meaning in the mundane is part of being a writer and part of being a human being.

I've found in my life that the better I get at accepting moments of quiet desperation, the greater my ability to enjoy the good becomes. It's the dwelling on boredom that sparks the existentialist questions - and even though the mind wants those issues to be answered, the heart benefits more from moments of acceptance.

So I accept that this blog isn't my best. I may never even read it again. I may forget what it says by tomorrow afternoon. But just because it's simple doesn't mean it hasn't contributed to the ultimate goal - which in this case is writing a daily blog, but also being genuinely happy even in the most uninspired moments.

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