Find your centre…
That is the best advice I have ever been given. Find that place where you are you and relax into it.
The first time I tried I laughed. Where I’m me? But I’m always me… It made no sense.
I get frustrated at language and not being able to put the words correctly on the page. If I get tired the words dance and twist. But I write. I love language. I love to draw a picture on a page with words.
For years, decades even, I wouldn’t write. It was something I knew I couldn’t do.
Instead I told people my stories.
I must have really annoyed people.
Don’t get me wrong. I would start books. Get about 5,000 words in and then stop. It would become overwhelming. My brain would jump ahead and my hand couldn’t keep up. There was no way. I would become frustrated and start to move to fast. The book would become a series of quick action.
The cat would sleep on the mat but you never found out why it slept, what colour it was or where it was.
The writing was more like a series of facts. A list.
Nothing like a novel.
Then one day I was told to centre myself.
And I did. I found the girl inside that had found out she couldn’t write. She once again sat in the class and was told how bad she was at writing (yes, in front of the rest of the class). She took the spelling tests and bore the brunt of coming last. She watched as the other kids would smile and nudge each other at her lack of reading ability. And there I found that kid who was brave enough to try.
She wrote the stories and read out in class despite it being hard and bad. She took the laughter with a shrug and a smile.
She was my centre. That brave kid with the smile and long plaited hair.
Once I found her I found my courage. I stood up and read. Only this time people clapped. I wrote stories and got published. People would read my books. I got a couple of reviews and they were good. Suddenly I was a writer.
And all because I found my centre. I manage to push the frustration aside and smile.