Tonight I knew I was bored. I thought about the ice cream waiting for me in the freezer but I was still too full to eat it. So I stood there for a moment, asking myself the constant question of what I should do. I caught sight of the book on my night table which I had been meaning to read for a while, The Writing Diet, by Julia Cameron. I flipped open to a random page and this paragraph hit me between the eyes:
I began to think about what Glenda’s plight with food meant for me as a writer… and as a mere liver of life. I often go through the motions. Passionless. Unenthusiastic. One of the few things I really look forward to is food, whether I’m bored, lonely, sad, etc. (and even when I’m happy).
Could what has been true of Glenda also be true of me… as a writer? If I don’t eat so much, will the muse grace me with her presence more often?
Sounds pretty simplistic but it’s worth a try. I need a motivation to take better care of myself and writing’s as good of one as anything else. I want to be an excellent writer (I have a very long way to go). I don’t want to go through life dull and dead to everything that’s going on around me. It will take courage to stop self-medicating and feel the negative emotions of fear, boredom, etc., but those who don’t allow themselves to go through the lowest lows cannot know what it’s like to go through the highest highs. I don’t want to go through the emotions.
I want my thoughts and experiences to be exquisite.