Seven Down, Five to Go! (Reflecting on silence and

Yes, I finished last month, and on time. I just didn't talk about it.

I've written over 350,000 words of fiction since January first.

It's been three weeks since I have blogged, and it is because I have nothing much to say. I can think of lots of topics and witticisms, many strings of words to display, but they are hollow; the echos of thoughts I've had in the past. And I am no longer sure if I think those things.

So silence remains.

The silence is born from outgrowing the old format of my writing, my life, my blog. I no longer know what I want to say. So I am quiet. I quietly go about my job, my workouts, my writing. Old conversation happens like a habbit, and I can taste the stale crumbs. There is a sweet melancholy to this, a mourning period in which I sit and wait to see what creature rises from the ashes.

And as I wait, I still write. Fiction, at least. The story rolls or skips or is forced out and I manage to each month end with some small amount above 50,000 words.

My stories reflect the complexities I am discovering in myself. I am a much better writer than I was when I began, and now I challenge myself each month more, with greater plot points, more characters, much more difficult problems to untangle. It gets harder, not easier, the farther I squeeze through this rabbit hole; I can no more ease up on myself than I can stop breathing. I must grow, I must push my own limits.

I read somewhere once that “writer's block” can actually be a period of silence in the growth of a writer's skill and craft, a void from which a new universe must bloom. (We all know that universes need voids to incubate properly.)

I know one thing, now. I want to have a different conversation about writing than we have been having.

I also know that things around here are going to change a little, to make room for whatever comes next.

I know I sound dark now, but In the Beginning there is always darkness.

And then there is light.


8 thoughts on “Seven Down, Five to Go! (Reflecting on silence and

  1. Reblogged this on dawnstarpony and commented:
    This is really sad. I don’t even know this person IN person. This post makes me want to cry even though it’s not my own life I outgrew, my own writing style, my own blog. I am still very much in my immaturity, still inside my immature life, immature blog, immature writing style. But this post makes me want to write 350,000 words in 7 months so that I, too, can go on this amazing journey, like how this person is. I want to be this person. I admire her so much for what she is doing. I wish I could have the guts to do that. She is a gutsy ninja… I mean writer.

  2. A Buddhist saying: The brightest bright is in the darkest dark. (Don’t get trapped in the Bardo, look for the light!) It is interesting to see some of the Olympic sprinters focus before the race. It is like a trance “down the rabbit hole”. Over in a few seconds, after 4 years of dedicated effort.

  3. Change makes me crazy as a matter of course, but I know it’s inevitable, it’s necessary, and more often than not it’s good. Keep up the strong work… and know there are many of us out here who are in awe of your process and the journey that you are on.

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