Over the years, I have developed a rather harsh and untenable internal critic, which has paralyzed my writing process. I’ve worked myself into a claustrophobic little writer’s strait-jacket, and writing has become anxious rather than fulfilling.
Recently, I have become aware that, on Facebook, I am writing something–obsessively–every day, and occasional little bits and bobs that satisfy me. I had a sudden revelation: I could use the energy of my Facebook addiction like the moon shot. The gravitational pull of the social medium can draw me into the discipline of writing every day.
I have been a sporadic journal-writer for years. I’ll start writing regularly and abandon the project after days or weeks or months. I wrote Morning Pages, a la The Artist’s Way, for a year or so, but couldn’t wade back through all the material to make it meaningful to me. I write poems and abandon the scraps of paper and the half-edited doodles.
We’ll just have to see how I do with this blog. I’m not making huge promises to myself, but I will begin with a set of ground rules. I am going to try to post something every day or two, whether it’s a long prose ramble, a scratched-together poem, or a gratitude list. I’ll give myself grace for occasional hiccups in that rhythm. I’m using Writer’s Digest’s 2012 November Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge to push myself to get the rhythm going. I have to put something down every day, even if I feel squirmy and uncomfortable with what I write. So be it.
My parents talk about incorporating rhythms into their life like the Benedictine monks–daily, hourly moments of spiritual focus and contemplative attention. One of the books they have studied is a little booklet that fits in the palm of the hand called Always We Begin Again. This is my mantra for the coming Writing Time in my life–no shame for past laziness, paralysis, purple writing. Just pick up again, write the next word, the next sentence, the next poem.
And that internal critic? The one who eats me up from the inside? I’m replacing her with the Mockingbird. Rather a harsh name for a critic, I know. But Mockingbird sits in the treeline and listens to me mutter while I harvest cauliflower or feed and water the chickens. He tells me just to say whatever comes to mind. If it doesn’t come out right the first time, repeat it endlessly until it does, say it in Swahili, Hindi, Chinese, Pig-Latin. I’m going to start listening to him.
Mockingbird Chronicles 
I am Angela Brubaker’s aunt. I read your piece above and it was a gift to me. I am a watercolor painter and I can relate your writing experience to my my present struggle to produce paintings. I have literally thrown out all my work from the last 4 years–I think! I have a small show scheduled in January and it is time to make it work or “get out of the business.” I even have a hard time talking to people about my so called process because it makes no sense to them. How can you be “talented” and discard so many paintings. They think I am crazy. I like your Mockingbird image. Catbirds have a beautiful song too but they can also be annoying too. I am familiar with the “Artist’s Way” and the various disciplines for art making. I some ways, that is what I have been consistently doing–beginning again and again. One of these days, I will achieve my goal. Thanks for your thoughts. Eva
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Thanks for sharing your thoughts and story, Eva. I know your work and am moved by it. I wish for you a Catbird, a Mockingbird, a Flower Fairy or a Stone that can help to silence the critic. Or maybe a Waterfall, a Hurricane, a Wildfire that can burn down the block. I hope that you can be gentle with yourself as you are true to your artistic vision. Much love.
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Beth, I’m thrilled that you are starting this blog. Spill it! I continue to be my worst critic, and I’m finally learning how to ignore/override him when he prevents me from sharing, finishing or even starting to make music. And then there are the other things that seem to be higher priorities; the discipline can be difficult. I tend to go in spurts. As my passions shift, I must keep following them… otherwise, I have nothing to sing about. It also helps me to know that people are continually eager to hear me sing. I am eager to read what you write!
Eva, you can add me to the list of people who would love to have one of those paintings you threw out! I admire your discipline to continue through the frustration, and I know that will have its reward.
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Thanks, Daryl! I once heard the poet/novelist Marge Piercy speak. She talked about apprenticing yourself to nature. You comment about needing to follow your shifting passions so that you have something to sing about really connected for me–you apprentice yourself to the experience of life. Perhaps that’s we all do when we take up the artistic task. Otherwise it becomes rote and dusty.
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Always we begin again. . . what a comforting, grounding thought for so many aspects of life. Thank you, Beth, for sharing that mantra.
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Looking forward to your writing… you are doing what many of us want to do also. My promise is to read and enjoy your thoughts. I think it will be wayyyyy easier for me than writing! Internal critics usually have been planted by some outside source. Good to replace with a positive outside source, love the Mockingbird.
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Thanks! I appreciate your support!
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