I give up.
I said this four separate times this week. Three times to myself. Once out loud.
I said it in response to the ugly rumblings that were coming from my insides.
You don’t have anything to say - certainly not enough to fill a book. I’m sorry, how will you do this and get your other work done? You have a baby on the way, now is not the time to start writing anything. Just try and make an outline - I dare you!
When I finally said that I was debating stopping all this book-writing nonsense out loud, it was to a friend. And just as soon as the words, “I give up,” came tumbling out I realized where they were coming from.
It was Fear. Resistance.
The truth is, I’m utterly terrified to commit to writing something as daunting as a whole book. I’m scared I won’t have enough to say. I’m scared that I won’t be able to manage my time well. I’m scared it will take away from preparing well for our coming baby. I’m scared that my brief moments of clarity will continually be overshadowed by days of incoherent thoughts.
And yet, this is what Fear and Resistance do best. They turn yourself against yourself unless you commit to always. moving. forward. one. tiny. step. at. a. time.
You will never have enough to say until to start to say it. You will never manage your time well unless you decide to try. You will never know how your endeavors will effect your family until you begin. The fogginess inherent to the creative process will always come and always go.
So, I’m starting. Again.
I know that more Resistance and Fear is on its way. It always is.
I also know there will be many more starts and stops and starts.
And the trick is to know there are no tricks. There is, in fact, no easy way. There is only the work.
Now, who’s coming with me?