I posted yesterday, but I deleted it around 5am when I decided it was terrible. (I had a bout of insomnia last night. A great deal of staring at the ceiling and thinking angry thoughts about the whole concept of sleep.) It was I confess very much a big whine about a creative exercise that just isn’t working for me. Part of my problem, I think, is that it works for many other people in a way I don’t actually understand at all, and they sing its praises and I feel stupid and get frustrated with it. Honestly it seems Morning Pages just aren’t for me. They don’t work for me as a creative exercise and so, in the words of the great Molesworth, “I diskard them”.
I rather feel as if I’m clutching at “creative exercise” straws in order to avoid actually doing creative work. I could be writing, but instead I’m journalling. (I could be writing, but instead I’m blogging…. heh.) These things are easier, less personally and emotionally confrontational, than sitting down and Making Art. I tell myself sweet lies like “it will help me in my creative work”, but that is indeed a lie. What will help me in my work is doing work. Do the work.
I’m writing out little plans for my day. I wake up at this time, take a shower, drink some coffee, write some words. I take a break, exercise, eat lunch, write some more. I like these plans, like looking at this potential me, this me who has her shit together, this me who is productive, fitting all these things into her day. I will spend this time reading, I will walk the dog, I will leave myself a couple of hours at night to play video games because a girl’s gotta have some fun. And weekends! I can do whatever I want on weekends.
This is a me I can be, if I don’t worry too much about when things get done and focus more on the rhythm of the day. Up, shower, coffee, write. Exercise, food, blogging, write.
So long as I can get to sleep earlier than 6am.
I will be the picture of discipline