We writers struggle. Struggle. To Have Confidence. To believe we can do it. To believe people care. To write. All the time, we struggle to write. You need insane amounts of confidence to write–and it seems like writers lack confidence to an almost neurotic degree.

God knows I’ve suffered through lack of confidence. Just on the blog alone (I have a whole separate writing career outside the blog), I’ve closed my blog down, blown up everything *multiple* times–from what ultimately boiled down to lack of confidence. There’s only been one time when I shut things down because I had the confidence to know it was the right thing to do.

I wrote the following to una hermana. Mi hermana. Because even though I know I never would’ve listened to these words as a young writer–I would’ve stored them, and thought about them. And used what I needed to–eventually when I was ready. Because everything goes in cycles, and some times you need to hear certain things–until you don’t any more. And it’s good to know that the things you need to hear are waiting for you…it’s a luxury when you’re a woman of color writer that comes from a long line of women who died before their time. It’s good to know. It’ll be there when you need it. You don’t have to rush to learn as much as you can. It’ll be there.

For context: Mi hermana is dealing with major writer’s block. Is searching for things to say. For a way to say it.

~bfp

p.s. if you feel like sharing any of your own advice you wish had been waiting for you–or that you had the luxury of waiting for you–please feel free to do so in comments!!!

Oh, Xxxxx.

i promise you something. Writing is not that big of a deal. you don’t have to save the world with your writing–and you’re not going to no matter what you write. From what I’ve seen, you’ve been lucky enough to not have had to deal with some of the same blog wars that I’ve had to–so, I’ll share with you some of the very hard won truth I’ve learned from my experiences.

Writing is just writing. The most fabulous piece of writing you ever write? It will not change anything or anybody. The writing you slave over for hours and hours and hours to get to the finest piece of perfection? It’s secretly the equivalent of garbage. Because that’s just the way life is. Everything I’ve ever written…is garbage, to more than one person. To many many people. To probably hundreds of people. And the thing I’ve learned? To treat my writing as if it is more precious than the humans who think it’s garbage? To protect my writing rather than or over a human being’s right to hate my writing? That goes against everything I’ve thought and worked towards for the last 10 years.

So. If my writing is not that precious. If it’s just garbage. If it’s something that doesn’t need the kind of protection I’ve given it….what do I do then?

I treat it like everything else that I care about in my life. It’s work. It takes work and time and effort. It takes screaming and yelling and sleeping on the couch. It takes making huge mistakes and neglecting it because you’ve got other things going on. Other fires to put out.

It’s not “WRITING” (stars shine and the angles sing)–it’s a commitment to wading through words and putting them together in a way that pleases you. Then it’s putting it out there. Letting go and moving on to something new. Because when you hold that baby too tightly, it either suffocates and dies or bites you until you let it go so it can run away.

This writing thing–it is not yours. The only thing that is yours–is the commitment to writing. You can help words grow, you can mold them and move them and twist them and turn them and smile at them when they finally listen to you–but the only thing that truly belongs to you is the commitment to working on those words.

Your ultimate choice here is not to think about “who do I write for” or “what do I write about” or “what happens if it’s all wrong” or “how do I represent myself”—all those things are important–but not really anything to worry about until after you make the *real* choice–

are you committed to the process of writing? Not the text, not a community, not a movement–

but to the *process*.

Are you committed to editing, to typing, to researching so you shape your words in a better way, to sitting in a chair for long hours at a time, to scratching a few words down in between dealing with the kids…etc. Are you committed to getting feedback, learning how to take feedback, editing, and then editing some more? Are you committed to destroying your essay physically (cutting up paragraphs into sentences–with scissors) and then moving the sentences around and around, cutting out words, setting sentences aside completely, and then sitting back at the computer and re-writing the whole thing?

If you are committed to the process–you will see–your work is garbage. but the good kind. Many people will try to convince you it’s worthless garbage–but you know garbage keeps people alive. I know garbage is used to make compost. it’s just garbage–nothing precious. It can be taken apart and put back together again. it can be and probably should be discarded after a few weeks. but it will help things to grow and can keep you alive.

your writing is not that precious. My writing is not that precious. nothing is so important that it will change everything. we need thousands and thousands and millions of voices for change to happen. if you’re lucky, you’re writing will be the garbage that somebody else uses to make compost. and that’s the very best you can hope for.

And think about it–what do you as a reader need? Do you need precious perfection in something that you read? Or do you need something that is practical–that you can take apart and mold for your own needs? And as a writer that is working to empower people–do you really *want* readers to take your work of perfection and declare to the world–This Is Perfect, ya’ll!

Or do you want readers to come up with their own ideas? And build their own dreams? and sing their own songs?

That’s what I want for you, mama. i want you to decide things for yourself and decide your own way doing things and existing in this world.

stop searching. decide if you are committed to the process of writing. and then get that work out there. in your own way, on your own time, when you are ready. and be ready for everybody in the world, including your dog and your best friend to look at you and say…Xxxxx. how could you? because it’s gonna happen. and be ready to cringe at stuff you wrote in the past and think “how could i????” be ready to take your own work apart—five years down the road, you’ll look at something you wrote, be charmed by one or two sentences or ideas–and steal that little bit to write a whole new essay.

be ready to find out five years after you’ve been writing what it really feels like–what it REALLY feels like–to be used by media. and realize all the mistakes you’ve made. doing what you thought was best. and be ready to flush when, after you make your big mistake, you get a charming email from a beloved friend who says you inspire her.

and then sit down. renew your commitment to the process.

and do it all again.

remember your writing is garbage.

and savor that freedom.

and know that forever and always–

i love you.

xoxoxoxoxoxo