My writing process is pretty simple. I generate a germ of an idea to write about, normally by listening to whatever is incessantly circling in my brain. I then try to see that idea from a few different angles, and then sentences and paragraphs start forming. I then try to get them down and a blog post starts to form.
Now, some posts get published as they are, how they are, not long after they are born. I try to publish one post a week, on a Monday morning. So, in theory,at worst or best, a week from start to publish. Some get published on the fly, but generally if I publish outside of my Monday morning schedule, it’s because I pressed the wrong button, the one that says publish immediately!
Other posts, depending on how they are developing, the subject matter and my mental health, take weeks to months to be published, if they get published at all. These posts either do not develop in the way that I want or I forget that I actually have some followers and I lose my way when I wander down the path presented by that particular post.
It’s interesting to note that I stop writing and stop painting when I am mentally unwell, because I feel that my voice, what I have to say or my art is unimportant. I start believing the negative voices in my head that tells me that I have nothing of note to draw or write or create. So when I broke through that to write my last post on anxiety, it was a sign that I had, for a brief moment, gotten my head above water, and loosened the clutches long enough to churn out a blog post AND THEN publish it.
Although I had continued to publish whilst I was acutely unwell, they were posts that I had written ages ago and were in the queue to be published when it was their turn. I had actually stopped successfully writing weeks ago.
That decline started by generating drafts of idea seeds – a couple of quick paragraphs about my idea to build on or flesh out later, and no matter how many times I revisit them, they remain still just that.
Then I stopped writing at all.
I stopped getting past the idea in my head, because I would quickly drown it in a bucket of doubt, or noise.
Ironically it wasn’t until I got enough space to write that post about Hyenas and my blessings , that the post alerted some of my loving circle of friends that something was up.
This is the power of writing though. For me, it provides clarity as I unpack my thoughts and arrange them in a presentable and communicative manner.
It provides perspective, as writing things down makes you step back and give distance.
It provides a release – these thoughts buzzing in my head, I get to release them and put them to purpose.
And it provides a communication tool.
I love the eloquence of writing, of seeking the nuance with text, of using words to create tone, intent, and meaning. It is a form of creativity which helps nourish me. Although like any artist, I love it when someone acknowledges that they actually read something of mine, no matter whether they liked it or not, I primarily write, draw, paint or create to nourish me, and for my benefit.