Getting weirder

"Please don’t say anything about my outfit today — I’m just trying something a little different, okay?” (Image by Darrell Perry)

I’m writing this under my least favorite circumstances.

The RSS feed goes out in about ninety minutes, so this thing better be published by then.

I used to live like this all the time. I came to enjoy the ritual of writing every morning, and I still do. But I don’t necessarily enjoy publishing what I write on a tight deadline.

I’m spoiled now. As a result of writing ahead, the gap between writing and publishing has gotten longer, and that means that whatever I write on a given day doesn’t have to be published that day.

And that means that I can get weirder and weirder. Without time pressure, I can experiment. I can write about stuff I don’t normally write about. I can take risks. I can play with structure and form.

I’ve gotten used to that. I’ve embraced that. Perhaps too well. Consequently, I don’t want to publish any of the articles I’ve completed. At least, not today.

That’s okay. I think it’s an indication that I’m in a transitional phase right now, like when you look in your closet for something to wear and nothing quite fits. My preferences are shifting — or maybe even my identity. It’s hard to speak with confidence any any topic when you’re in the midst of questioning what you stand for.

Creative work is an interesting balance. Ideas show up when you’re bouncing off of other people’s ideas, but consuming too much of other people’s ideas can make us bitter or shut us down.

I’m struggling to find that balance right now. There are so many things I’d like to rail against at the moment, but to do so publicly feels petty or mean. Therefore, I will keep my criticism to myself for the time being.

I don’t want to complain without offering solutions. I don’t want say what other people shouldn’t do when what’s frustrating me is people saying what other people shouldn’t do. There’s a weird recursive quality to such discourse that I am trying to figure out how to sidestep.

A lot of this “figuring” out is happening in my writing, where I’m letting myself explore and play. And maybe I should just share what I come up with as I always have. But my intuition is saying, “not yet.”

That’s fine. I can be patient. A year ago, I was recognizing that I would have to give myself space and not have a new project lined up already for the day after the Little Middle School closed. And now, I still haven’t decided what’s next. That’s fine — I don’t have to.

There was a time when I would have felt more of a sense of urgency around my professional direction, but I reject that urgency as a manifestation of a sense of scarcity. It comes from someone else’s expectations, not mine. I will accept where I am.

What’s been interesting is that, often, the articles I don’t want to publish look better to me after some time has passed (for instance, this one has been sitting in the queue for two weeks!). The ideas I’m sharing are less scary to put out there. I’ve become more comfortable with the perspectives I’m offering, and less worried about how they are received. I can see that I’m living into my own future, day by day.

Thanks for playing on this playground with me. Sometimes I worry that talking about myself and my process will be boring or unrelatable. And maybe it is, to most people. But, on the other hand, maybe I can make someone feel a little less alone. We can be weird together. The possibility of connection is worth the risk of judgment.