When I got into recovery, I had to give up writing. For good. I told God and then my sponsor that I would not write creatively ever again. This sacrifice, I said, was necessary for my sanity. And I was right. My creative process at the time was compulsive and ego-driven. I did not write for the sake of telling good stories, or discovering inner truths, or sharing ideas with people. I wrote because I wanted everyone to think I was a genius. I wanted them to discover me. To pay me lots of money. To make me famous. I wanted to be on billboards and talk shows. Ex-girlfriends would be sorry for all the mean things they said to me. I would be vindicated by my universally praised talent, all my foibles and failings excused for the sake of my art.
“He suggested, in a nutshell, that surrender meant attending to your responsibilities without worrying about the results. Just do what the universe gives you to do, and try to enjoy being in the moment.”
What a novel (sorry) way to reframe the writing process. I like it! Your 2 stories sound great too - I was just wondering if the girl caught on? I'm happy for you if she did. ♥️Thanks James.
“He suggested, in a nutshell, that surrender meant attending to your responsibilities without worrying about the results. Just do what the universe gives you to do, and try to enjoy being in the moment.”
That’s it—in said nutshell ☺️
What a novel (sorry) way to reframe the writing process. I like it! Your 2 stories sound great too - I was just wondering if the girl caught on? I'm happy for you if she did. ♥️Thanks James.
We've been married over 20 years now. :)
Excellent!