Woke up at 4:30. Actually more like 4 but I was meditating and vibing with the universe type deal before I got out of bed. I made coffee, did my thing, came in and wrote in my book for a little bit.
The book is called Ayam. An important part of creating something from nothing is speaking it into existence. If I talk about the book in abstracts, that I may finish one day, it will be an abstract that may finish one day. The book is called Ayam. It is a fictional novel I’ve been working on. It started as an idea in my head and that idea is becoming words on a screen. I started about this time last year and have shelved it for months and months with brief respites of “giving a fuck”. I’d call it writer’s block, but what do you the block if the block is the writer itself?
Today, I went from about 20k words to almost 23k words, but I was doing a lot of editing too. I am at 115 pages in word, and I’m not sure how long or how many chapters it will be yet. When I recommitted myself to writing Ayam, I was at maybe 8k words. I didn’t just commit myself to write it, though. I committed myself to publish. But you can’t publish what you don’t have, so that’s an entirely other phase of creating something from nothing.
It’s the whole beef stroganoff thing. I have read so many books and recipes and whatever but now I’m actually making it. I find in weird times, which life is just a neverending series of weird events, retreating to my inner child is what keeps me laughing and happy. It also gives me the strength to choose my life. Right now, it feels very easy to lose sight of choice.
Choice is such a simple word that changes realities. I have chosen to write this book as much as I have chosen to put it off. But the latter expression is tucked away behind “too busy”, “messy house”, “too stressed/many desserts” and on and on. All of those are synonyms for I am choosing not to make myself happy and in choosing to make myself unhappy, I have made myself a victim of my own life instead of an author.
Right now, choice feels so diminished. it feels as if we have to do a lot of things we may not even want to. Even if we feel it is for others’ best interest, it is so easy to say we have to. But if ever a more dangerous word in the english language could exist…!! Having to stay home is akin to having to clean my house, having to handle the kids, having to have any excuse to put myself last. Because have to is a synonym for choosing to ignore myself. Even if you could go to jail for staying in your house, you don’t have to stay in your house. It can be as simple as saying: I choose to stay in my house because I don’t want to stay in jail. When you tell yourself you have to do something, you’re simultaneously saying you don’t have to listen to yourself.
And in the overwhelmingness of all this, the echoes of my choices to ignore myself cannot be ignored. The excuses I can find can’t be. Where some could find despair, I feel like there’s this little me at the keyboard coming to life and it’s making life fun even if it is really messed up. That’s how I’ve gotten through everything else, so I see no reason to alter course. It is a choice to see problems as much as it is a choice to see opportunity. The choice is always ours, and for me, I’m super duper excited about this book. It is a choice. I can have to stay home and have to pass the time and have nothing to do. I can also choose to stay home and choose to develop myself which gives me plenty to do.
I currently have “writer’s high” because I just finished a chapter. My heart is pumping like I just ran somewhere, and though I didn’t move, I was just creating a world and two people who the amalgamation of a childhood spent reading about serial killers for fun. I may “have to” stay in my house, but I chose to take a trip just the same.
Now off to homeschool my children, continue teaching them responsibility/how to clean my house so I have more time for writing, and keeping the quality time in quarantine.