Inside there is a story of great importance. The characters and plot pieces interlock in a unique and compelling way. It occurs against stark and beautiful backdrops. It has a reason, I know what I am trying to say. But do I actually know the story?
I berate myself for my inability to write more than a page at a time. For the procrastination and addiction to bad TV shows. For sitting down and staring at the colors on my screen, choosing to click yahoo instead of to open work and force my idea to a page. To encapsulate the image with actual words.
In my mind it reminds me of one of those posters you hang in your room as a kid. With the too perfect colors and swirls. A fantasy image of a dream landscape with perhaps a unicorn and majestic and mythical creature of another sort, with wings…. soaring through whirling and swirling heavens in sparkling perfection.
When you finally sit and put words to page, they come out awkward and well, imperfect. The story is shattered. Maybe you don’t have a meaningful tale to tell. Or maybe you aren’t the person to tell it. Doubt corrodes hope.
Perfection is my enemy. It is the enemy of my dreams. Of writing. Of dieting. Of making changes. Of finding love. This post deals with writing. But thus far my blog deals with making changes and learning to be authentic to oneself. And to do that, you can’t be attached to perfection. Because nothing. Is. Perfect. The beauty is in the chaos, the satisfaction is in the taming of it.
I have two books in my head at the moment. Bits and pieces of them on pages, but mostly they live in the gray matter, worming around, burying themselves deeper each time I click yahoo or hulu for some bad TV.
My quest is to unbury these stories at the same time that I unbury, uncover, unearth my very self and find my way forward in the world.
It’s a small task I think. 
I hope I’m up to it.
Filed under: Self discovery, Writing Tagged: beginning, career change, characters, childhood, fear, hope, life, life story, love, perfection, philosophy, plot, writing
