I Have Lost My Best Post Ever
And I can’t get it back
Today writing something seems impossible.
It looks like my creativity has decided to not come to the office today. Maybe it got scared by the rain. Maybe it’s a lazy day. Or maybe I have a debt with her.
My last post was almost magically inspired. It came from my heart and my fingertips felt like a tornado tapping on my phone’s keyboard. I don’t know how long it took me to write Letter To My Creativity, but it is one of the easiest pieces I have ever written.
For some reason, people loved it.
I Didn’t Realise I Had Just Made Something Beautiful
I didn’t even want to publish that piece. It felt too different from what I usually write. It felt too personal. Too deep to have a chance to resonate with an individual that wasn’t me. Hitting that publish button has been a nerve-wracking experience. I was scared and felt exposed.
I felt like I was letting an intimate part of my soul free. Like I’ve dumped it in the wild, vulnerable to the harsh opinions of the public. That piece had a fragment of my soul in it and I was petrified by the idea of getting it slashed by complete strangers.
The only thing that made me hit that button was the idea that I loved the actual process of writing that piece. It felt wrong to waste my creature over the fear of being criticised. It felt selfish. Almost disrespectful towards that incredibly inspired moment I had just lived.
I pushed that button and let that piece of me live forever online.
I didn’t expect anything out of it. I was almost ashamed to promote it too much. I don’t know why. It was a completely irrational feeling.
The reaction I’ve got was surprising, to say the least. Slowly I started getting comments and tweets. People liked it. People shared it and wanted to talk with me about it. It was one of the most beautiful and uncomfortable feelings I’ve ever experienced.
It was completely unexpected. I wasn’t prepared at all. The love I got back caught me off guard and made me feel elated but weird. I almost thought that I didn’t deserve all that attention and affection. Why would someone spend 3 minutes of his life reading my stuff? Why would waste his energy to like and comment it? Why on Earth would someone share it publicly on his social media?
That’s beyond my comprehension. I have no answers to these questions, but I am grateful. Grateful and humbled.
My Words Are Everybody’s Now
My last post made me understand one, very important, truth. Hitting that publish button I lost forever my words.
They are not mine anymore.
People made those words theirs. For some reason, my struggle and my relationship with my creativity resonated with a lot of creatives. My issues were theirs. My love story with writing wasn’t just mine anymore.
My readers reacted to it and my words resonated with their own personal experience. My post was written without any presumption of providing value or teaching something. This gave my words a different weight. They came out as more sincere and direct. People have been able to relate to them and understand perfectly what I was talking about.
Every single sentence became part of their experience. Every single word was now a part of their creative process. A brush of paint that described their scenario. It wasn’t just mine anymore.
This thought is somehow liberating. I don’t feel the same pressure I felt when I posted my letter. I feel like the majority of the readers took my post and made it their own. Elevated my humble words to a new level. Took them to a new dimension.
The letter is not to my creativity anymore. It’s a letter to everybody’s creative process. It’s an ode to their inspiration. An encouragement during their creative struggles.
It’s become something bigger than me. I have been blessed with that creative moment. The words came out and I was able to convey this message. Now it’s not with me anymore.
Like Squeezing Water From A Stone
Today, these words didn’t want to come out. My inspiration didn’t want to bless me with another magical moment this afternoon.
I have written every single word of this post so many times and I am still not satisfied with it. But what can I do? Give up?
Having written a post that got attention put pressure on me. Pressure to write something as good. Pressure to follow it up with something meaningful and worthy of its predecessor.
That’s nonsense.
I’ve had success talking about how I write for the pleasure of writing, not for my audience. Why would I stop now? The only thing I can do to get my inspiration back and live one of those moments again is writing. Write as much as I can.
Following this winding path is the only way I can hope to live one of those inspired moments again.
I write for living those magical instants.
In case you’ve missed my last post.
