"I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear." — Joan Didion, "Why I Write," The New York Times Magazine, 1976
“What I want” might sound selfish, might sound audacious, but it’s the scariest thing to put out in the world. It’s a frightening question because of two reasons: 1) our society tells us what we want 2) and then the same society tells us we are foolish to want to achieve it. So, let’s put the possibilities out there: We are told that we want money, freedom, success, to find someone to love and be loved, a family, and enjoyment. Then we pursue those things, but then the possibilities we are given are limited. There are only a few ways to make money, either rent out our time or start up a business. But renting out our time means to work for someone and that limits our freedom. Our success is based on our employer and promotions and the amount of money possible. If we start a business, then that is difficult, and we might begin by making no money in the first few years. We might have to work long hours to make the business a success and that is not guaranteed. Even though U.S. America is built on entrepreneurial spirit, many small businesses don’t last beyond three years. So again, we seem to limit our freedom.
We try to find that perfect companion. Do we think about appearance, attraction, wealth, success, etc? We are told those things are important then we are told that those things are superficial. Even if we do find that right person, a relationship is not only about sex and not being alone. Those things disappear quickly if they are the only things. It is about the unglamorous day to day experiences that make relationships worth having. That is the real joy. But that requires work, time, freedom, etc. My parents never told me that relationships are hard work. They just said find someone, get married, and have children. They lived a mostly unhappy marriage and want me to try my luck on the same thing? No thank you.
So, most of us are hesitant to name what we truly want in life because it seems that when we put it out there, it gets slapped down. Then young people are given political solutions to their desires. If they could shape their world in a certain way, that’s what they want and will make them happy. However, this does not work quite as planned. It is important we are involved in the political process and try to shape our world in the best way possible. However, that can never bring us the sense of fulfillment that we are after. We can want the perfect world, but what good is that world if we are living miserable lives? A perfect society full of people scared to pursue what they want to pursue is a utopian prison.
This is why writing down what you want and what you are deeply frightened of is the greatest liberator. Whether it is formal writing or journaling, the page is where one can start. It is the free therapist. But even so, many people get writer’s block looking at the empty page. It does stare back, waiting for us to pour out our greatest secrets, our deepest hopes and dreams. It is frightening because as adults, many of us fear ridicule, and the one we fear it from the most is ourselves. When we were children, the world was open. We did not laugh at ourselves, but at the adult world. The grownups were the ones not opened to the wondrous possibilities of what this existence is offering us. But then they start telling us what those possibilities are. The walls begin to close. Then we are these adults who are both trapped and laughing at ourselves.
The page is to give us that freedom again if we want it. Remember when paper was the way in which we could create our worlds. Now, children are given iPads to watch and the world is given to them. When I was a child, my parents managed a convenient store and I would take the paper bags and a box of colors pencils and draw cars, and spaceships, and superheroes. The more I drew the more fantastic they were. Paper was an invitation to do something. To create a world beyond the impoverished place I was living in. But as an adult, especially in academia, paper became something dreadful. It was not fun, but a chore, an opportunity for someone to say “no.” It was not a landscape for exploration, but a flat surface where dreams go to die. Paper became paperwork.
Sure, some writing is not good. Not every work fits every publication. But the purpose of writing is not in getting it published, rather it is to speak to someone, to communicate. And the one we need to talk to first is ourselves. Too many writers forget this. They think about their publishing company, their editors, their audience, their five-star reviews, etc, etc. They forget what brought them joy in the first place. They forget why they wanted to write. “This idea will sell.” “This story will sell.” “This poem will sell” (well, maybe not, but you get the idea). We should write as though each line were an s.o.s to ourselves, as if our lives depended on it. We need to write in order write.
By putting words down with pen and paper, we shape our businesses, our careers, our relationships, our lives. We say what we truly desire and why. We dig deep into the soil to plant something that might yield fruit in the days to come. We do it daily to water the soil, to tend to it, to help it grow and flourish. This is the task of writing.
I really want my words to matter. I don’t want to say things to just say them, to please the gods of propriety. Rob Bell, former pastor and now writer, said that he spent much of his ministry career just telling people what they wanted to hear, to affirm what they already believed. There are so many things to be said and so little time to say them. In a world where books are censored and people wanting to moderate our public discourse, there needs resistance. I want to leave something meaningful for myself and for the world. I’ve been to too many funerals. The dead all say the same thing: “If I were you, I would not waste my life thinking about what others might think. Just do what you need to do. In fact, if you don’t want to, I’ll be glad to trade places with you.” It’s a scary prospect to do something that is meaningful. It’s even a scarier prospect to spend a lifetime doing something that is not.
Suggestions:
1. Psychologist, James Pennebaker suggests spending 20-30 minutes writing about trauma or the most difficult situation in your life.
2. One can also engage in what is called “morning pages” in which Julia Cameron talks about in The Artist's Way to unleash creativity. This can be writing about your worries or fears, getting thoughts and inspiration out as “seeds” for other writing, or helping to calm your inner critic (writers have the loudest). This should only be 15 minutes of your morning routine.
3. Write about your wishes, dreams, desires, what you fear the most. I would do this about 10-15 minutes each time, because it can be mentally challenging and emotional.
4. In all these practices, as with anything, it gets easier and easier as we do them. Think of them as ways of liberating yourself from the cell of the mind. Like in the film, The Shawshank Redemption, it’s chipping off one piece of wall at a time. I’ll meet you in Zihuatanejo!
Love this notion of 'speaking to ourselves' first before actually attempting to speak-write to anyone else.