Dear Me

January 2007

Dear Me,

I've been thinking of what I would like to accomplish this year. An old year ends and new begins, reminding me of both the cyclic nature of all things and the seemingly ever-quickening passage of time. As my thoughts turn toward self-examination, quiet questions rise with gentle insistence. Who am I? What do I want to be? What do I want to have done when this day, this year, my life is over?

I call myself a writer; when strangers ask what I do, that is unfailingly my response. Why, then, do I spend such vast, dry months of silence between glorious bursts of frenzied writing? Why deny this voice inside, speaking incessantly in crafted phrase and verse, sifting sounds into stories unwritten and forgotten? Why not, at least, read and encourage those who are following through from idea to expression?

The answers live in the world where all unfed resolutions wither – inaction. For me it’s too easy to couch myself in front of the TV or surf the Internet. It's tempting to put writing off till some vague tomorrow because I don't have any ideas or don't feel motivated. I’m pulled toward a lazy, mindless sort of existence where I’m either caught in a whirlwind of work, mothering, and chores, or I claim I'm too exhausted to do anything but the most mind-numbing of activities.

It’s an illusion, of course, that kind of thinking. I’m writing to remind myself of this!

It’s very simple. If I want to be a writer, I will write. I will also read, in order to hear others and respond in kind, to reflect and share ideas, and to learn from one another. I can still watch TV or surf the ‘net, but I will balance that kind of dull inactivity with more vibrant action.

I will remind myself there is no guarantee of another year, or even another day. There’s so much I still want to express, so much I want to share. If I do not use today, chances are I won’t use tomorrow. Inaction is a habit quickly learned and easily adopted. But so is action! Once writing is routine I will settle there nicely, for it truly is what I love to do. I choose the joy of expression over the torpor of immobility.

I give you this goal, then, self! To write each day, if only to jot down a dream or pen a quick haiku. To spend at least a portion of my hours typing out those thoughts and notions swimming in my head. To rate and thoroughly review a new item here at writing.com every time I log on. And to live and laugh and love with fervor, knowing all the while that each experience, aching or ecstatic, will fuel creative forces to articulate a tale for everyone to read.

Thank you, me, for carrying me through another year. I forgive your past shortcomings, mistakes, and laziness - and I hereby bequeath to you a clean slate on which to write our future.

With love and gratitude,

Me