It's been a month of writing in between the life I am trying to build in Vermont, catching myself thinking about what to share online, trying to respond to life, to get into the writing groove again.
The end of Fun-a-Day! The end of riding the wave of communal consciousness around shared art discipline! The end of racking my brain to think of what to write! The end of confronting the large pile of poo that is my resistance to writing, almost daily, and just starting. So much of writing for me is just starting. The resistance I have has many sources, but really only one activator-- myself. I can think myself out of writing any day of the week. From my poor writing skill to my lack of time to my fear of reprisal to my sense of doom at being seen-- all of these mind games have stalled this writing life.
And it's not just me. I know many writers and artists who struggle with whatever inner voices tell them that their vision, their work is not good enough. I am testimony to the illusion, the base falseness of those voices. I did it. And those voices, do they linger?
No longer. I will call this Fun-a-Day a success because it has stopped these demon thoughts and left instead a curiosity.
I wonder what will happen next.
Good-bye, Fun-a-Day House. Until next year.