I don’t do pages everyday. And lately I’ve hardly done them at all. But I do love how I feel on the random mornings that I get the time and energy to do them.
My often excuse is the insomniac son I have … the reality is, I just get lazy or forgetful (despite the reminder that pops up every morning). Sometimes I fall back asleep on the couch and wait for the sun to actually rise before I get moving and usually by then it’s in a rush.
But, this morning I felt the energy and the motivation.
So why am I blathering on about this? I’m so glad I asked.
While writing my pages this morning, l I realised something that has raised its head many times in the past but I’ve quickly pushed it down.
I love learning.
For many years I forgot just how much. I can remember when I was younger indulging in such amazing activities as reading encyclopaedias over the school holidays, collecting different dictionaries to see what words and meanings were changed in them, and how exciting it was to master new skills that were hard to learn.
But somewhere along the way I lost the love of learning. I could blame emotionally abusive ex’s, childhood trauma, a degree that made me feel more stupid than anything else but that hardly matters. What matters was that I couldn’t find that joy anymore. I hid away from things that were hard, terrified to show others that I didn’t already know this specific skill or hadn’t mastered that particular task. I was so scared that I would be seen as a moron for the learning process. Looking back, it makes me so sad for all the things I stopped myself enjoying.
But, it’s back. I’ve found it again, and we have happily reconciled.
It’s a very unexpected side effect of this writing journey and the amazing people I have found along this path. Some are on the sidelines cheering me on, passing me cups of water as I run this race of mine. Sure, sometimes I’m walking, sometimes skipping, and other times I’m sitting on a rock beside them catching my breath. Other times, these amazing people are there helping and teaching without judgement or expectation. They have returned to sit old rocks helping others get past the next hurdle.
I find myself learning new things constantly about writing. And not one of these things have been learnt alone or in a vacuum. Sometimes it’s from taking a class (I recently took a fantastic course on magic realism), sometimes it’s informal chats with fellow authors turned friends, other times it’s interviewing an author, or getting feedback, or reworking a manuscript with edits from alpha readers, publishers, or editors. I’ve even learnt while reading about someone else’s experiences, or reading another authors book they have bravely push out into the world. And I can’t even begin to numbe the amount of times I’ve realised something about my own method or WIP when helping out a fellow author asking for advice.
Learning is not something to be ashamed of and the process should be highlighted and celebrated just as much if not more than the end result.
I love finding this feeling again. And while I may bitch and moan about how long the editing process takes or how confused those craft books make me at times, I have never been so happy with my journey. I can’t wait to keep learning. And for the first time in such a long time, I’m looking forward to messing up and learning more from each mistake.