The relationship between commitment and doubt is by no means an antagonistic one. Commitment is healthiest when it’s not without doubt but in spite of doubt. Rollo May
After a day of feeling good about being on the ” right track,” the Doubts creep in during the night. Argh.
“You do know what you’re getting yourself into, don’t you?” Firin Doubts asks.
“Um. I think so. What do you know that I don’t? Wait, don’t answer that.”
Yesterday I ordered the computer I fell in love with at Office Depot last week. But I didn’t buy it from them. Instead I went to a computer repair shop recommended by a friend because I need the guys that come with it. I’m ready to plow into some heavy duty writing and messing with a temperamental old laptop that weighs twice as much as any currently on display at the four stores I visited is too distracting. I had done my research and it was time to act.
“Well, what about that blog you started? What are you trying to prove with that?” Fuller Doubts adds.
“Prove?” I think. “I hadn’t thought about what I was proving. I’m a writer. And writers write. The last time I committed to a blog for a year was a good thing. Quit with your questions, please. I need to get back to sleep.”
When I first get up I write morning pages, then head out the door for a Jazzercise class or a walk. The blog begins when I return. Actually that’s when the writing of the blog begins. Ideas have been percolating long before that.
“Is that all you need to do to call yourself a writer?” Evan Moore Doubts queries.
I roll over, ready to get back to sleep.
On Labor Day (an idea I got from Barbara Abercrombie’s A Year of Writing Dangerously) I will begin my collection of “school stories,” anecdotes from the university seminars I facilitate, the beginning teachers’ classrooms I visit, and a neighborhood after school program with which I work.
In spite of this family of Doubts.