Metacognition

Last month, I decided to engage in some reflection about my writing and writing habits. Each day, I jotted down a sentence or two about writing -- obstacles, feelings, thoughts, observations -- whatever came to mind. Some days, I reported on what I did (or didn't do); other days I just jotted down my thoughts or feelings about writing. 

It was cool and revelatory.

When you've been doing anything -- even something you really love -- for more than 30 years, it's inevitable that rough patches will pop up. Even though I still enjoy writing, I've been feeling disillusioned about the business of writing, and that has leached into my daily practice. Last month, I wanted to see if at the love was still there, what its traveling companions might be, and to better understand my writer self.

The journaling shed light on all three elements. The love for the writing itself is still there, but the frustration and disillusionment over what it takes to get work out into the world and how much mental and creative energy it requires is at an all-time high. I don't want to give up, but I'm also confused as to where the road goes from here. It feels as though wanting to get my work from my hard drive out into the world shouldn't be as hard as creating the product itself.

I may not have the path fully figured out, but this journaling practice definitely gave me some insights as I started to separate actual reasons from mere excuses (and a pity party here and there). Perhaps even better, I enjoyed this practice, making it something I want to continue.

And, as I've told many aspiring writers, any writing counts. Even if it's writing about writing.