In this journey of transformation and becoming that I have embarked on with the PhD, writing has been one my biggest blessings – and one of my most painful curses. I love writing so much that my world almost falls apart when I suddenly can’t write. Then I spend hours and days just staring at the words as they turn blurry on the screen, trying to relearn how to write all over again.
As an encouragement to myself, to avoid this unbearable situation, I wrote a letter to me:
When writing, remember to write and keep writing.
Remember that you can write, so don’t get stuck banging your head against the wall because the words are playing hide-and-seek or twister, hiding behind the screen or tangled up in a knot over in the corner.
If something doesn’t work, if a certain section of text is a dead end for now, if it is resisting your grasp, write something else and keep writing.
Always try to approach writing as a thing to play with, because that’s the only way that works for you, the only way to get the writing done. Imagine that the letters, words, sentences, spaces and pages, are not just sitting there, lingering in their allotted spots, they are playing around, too. Some kind of ceremonial, a celebration of sorts, is taking place on the pages, a party, maybe a festival or carnival. A spectacle, truly, that is partly out of your control
Your best writing happens when it feels like play, when it is light-hearted, moving, dancing, teasing, laughing, whether it is introspective play or rough-and-tumble, it must aspire to be playful, always.
If you can do that, you can write.