A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-And-Forty

As I am working on my new project, I am finding that I am still spinning about, in many ways, attempting to find footing with discussing things.  I think I am getting towards it, and I feel that what I am writing is meaningful, if indirect, but I know that a part of the goal, for me at least, is in transforming to be able to put more real that is direct and concrete on the page, to make the work more relatable, and to also be comfortable with myself in ways that I am not.  I am hiding.  So often that is the truth, and I don't want to keep doing it, but it is the habit I have.  I am writing this now, and it is honest, but it does not say much more than just what is true in this moment.  I am not shy about revealing things, will talk openly about them, but when I try to write, I often go in strange directions.  It might not be an issue, I suppose, but it feels like one to me.  I don't want to change the style or anything, do not want to be writing things that are less my own in style and language, or even in the processes of revelation, but would like to find a way to do so that is connected with other kinds of content, not just the internal world, but more of what is real.  I want to push myself to be honest in ways that are not always easy, and to take certain risks that seem difficult and dangerous.  I have done that in work before, but it is something I know I want to be more comfortable doing.  That is a strange statement, as their is personal content that is always thorny and unpleasant, and I do not mean that I want to feel comfort in dealing with that, but more that I want to be prepared to do that work, want to be ready for it, want to choose to go towards it more often.  I want to find a way to write about the things that matter to me in the world, but, more, I want to discover a way to do it that follows the artistic path I am already exploring within my writing.

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