new beginnings

new beginnings require so much mental energy, focus and belief in the self. today even though the will is strong and there is a sense of knowing where to go there is also a resistance, something is making me slow and lethargic. a voice says, 'easy there, you can always begin tomorrow.'

that voice is not laziness, it is uncertainty and fear. i have a 89,000 word first draft and i keep getting lost on the pages. the words swim around in ever-changing shapes. i want the most important words to suddenly hightlight themselves and form the pattern i need for the re-write. i also want to shove them aside, press delete and begin anew. 

why? because once i finished the story i was writing i had the sense of a whole new story. and because of the rape of the delhi student, the subsequent uprising in india and the horror of the continuing stories of rape i feel a need to include the intensity of those feelings and don't quite know how yet. what was a personal story of exploring the skewed balance between the feminine and masculine in an imaginary world wants to change into a story of women's oppression? 

no not quite. i suddenly know that the story i was writing was the one i need to keep writing and the new feelings will find their way in.

but as a first time fiction writer the re-write is scarier than the first draft. the first draft almost felt channelled as it gushed out of me. ideas i didn't really have arranged themselves in delightful words on my computer screen. but the re-write now confounds me. do i have the skills to write this i ask myself? 

yesterday as i searched for the invisible entrance into the maze of this re-write i began writing my  'savitri' story. initially i had the same resistance i am feeling today, but surprisingly in an hour i had sketched out the outline and got the first draft ready. probably in a few sessions of polishing the story will be ready to be read by others. 

i feel good about that. yet i drag myself as i try to follow the stronger desire to get back to the novel re-write. it feels like a fog is settling into my head, making visibility and movement difficult. i cannot sense or negotiate my own thoughts. but as i write this blog post i feel the panic gripping my chest clearing up and i breathe in relief. i see the gateway appearing.

an inner critic says 'tsk, tsk, why are you wasting your time writing? there is important work to be done on gender violence.' but my fathers voice reminds me, 'don't be afraid to waste your life.' and i grin and continue clicking on my keyboard.