…on the days when I get over myself, I write freely and happily. My writer’s life is a loose garment. It’s my baggy silk pajamas. It’s a life where I – and my brain-children – are allowed to come as they are. Since I’m not invested in looking like a “real” writer or in acting like a “real” writer, I am freed up to have a real life. Since it isn’t about concentrating on how smart I am and how brilliant I need to be, since it’s now about listening to what is trying to speak through me, I can trust that the flow of writing is always there, always available, just like electricity at the flick of a switch.
Are you able to relax, and trust yourself, in your writing, your parenting, your living? Or are you perpetually determined prove yourself in your writing, your parenting, your living? Do you think any facet of life can really become like “baggy silk pajamas” if we care so much, so deeply, and so complexly, about it? What do you sleep in?