Pressure

I never realized just how much I was under, writing fiction.

Some of it is good pressure. Striving to tell the best story you can, for example. That’s good. We should all strive to be the best at whatever we do.

But then there’s the other side of the coin. There’s all this pressure to produce, to write and write quickly. To tell stories that will sell, to meet and surpass all the expectations of editors and literary magazines. God help you if you don’t — there’s always another, newer name to take your place…

It can be tiresome. It can wear you down until your well of words is dry and stale. As I get a little space and perspective, I realize that’s what happened. So I took drastic measures: I decided to take a leap in a different direction — songwriting. Now, here I am — doing something I never thought I’d ever pursue (mostly because I had people tell me it was something I couldn’t do, shouldn’t do, etc. and I was stupid enough to listen!), and I’m loving it.

Oddly, there’s no pressure. None. It’s the strangest thing: I want to make good songs, I want to create beautiful, poignant, meaningful music, and I’m working toward that goal, but there’s not one. single. ounce. of. pressure.

Nada.

It’s amazing, this freedom. It’s as if a whole new aspect of my creativity just turned over like a page in a book, and opened up an entirely new set of tools to craft things with.  In a lot of ways I feel like a kid in a toy shop that’s been told they can have anything. :)

I think I forgot what it felt like to feel this way. I’m sure I’ve felt this way before — I just forgot how.

Now if I can keep it this way, there will be so many possibilities! :)

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