"Waiting On" Wednesday is a weekly event, hosted by Jill over at Breaking the Spine, that spotlights upcoming releases that we're eagerly anticipating. City of Blades by Robert Jackson Bennett...
"I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words. I scatter them in time and space. A message to lead myself here." — Doctor Who, " The Parting of the Ways"
I write all day, every day. I write on this blog and in my journal. I write novelette-length emails and send hundreds of texts daily. I write headlines and photo captions at work, lines of poetry on random pieces of paper, beginnings of stories. A screenplay loved by a handful of my close friends.
This quote from the first season finale of new Doctor Who has been a favorite and I never stopped to think why. It's pretty. My favorite character said it. What was there to think about?
But then on my drive home last night, I thought about how much I've written. The last time I went through old high school journals was a year ago or longer. I was stunned at some of the batty things I wrote. Like endless teenage musings about a ferocious unrequited love whose significance I must have blocked out in the years since. Because, you know, he was a total asshole, it turns out. Or all the goals and dreams I had, some of which have come true (although Maxim hasn't called me yet to ask me to pose for the cover).
I've written in so many places, including at least four blogs that I can recall. I majored in creative writing and sat in workshops while a dozen people picked apart my words. I've written an insane number of words scattered across years and locations.
A message to lead myself here.
I'm happy about my paper-and-pixel trail documenting all the stops on the way to becoming a bit less crappy of a human being every day. I'm happy anyone ever reads my stuff — I see my Google stats and although I know it's not a lot compared to other bloggers, it's still a dazzling number to me.
This train of thought probably departed from a post by Alexandra Franzen about your personal body of work being much larger than you probably think. You should go read it. Then go look at stuff you've written, photos you've taken, recipes you've cooked, playlists you've made, what the eff ever. Anything that evokes a memory and proves how much you've evolved will put a little swagger in your strut. We've all left ourselves clues. Where have they led you, and where are you going now?