There have been other times in which everything seems awkward. My writing takes on a spastic quality. I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. Both sides of my brain go haywire and words churn out but they're incoherent. I find myself erasing and starting over multiple times in my mind before I even get started on the page. It is these times when my inside and outside worlds become so misaligned and out of whack that I'd retreat into myself for days at a time.
Even if life's obligations forced me into the light it was obvious that I wasn't fully there. Whenever a moment would come, or when I felt I had to give myself a few moments by making some good sounding excuse to wander off, I would write. Or at the very least I would attempt to. Sometimes I would doodle. I may scribble a few verses. Until I wrote something I was content with I simply couldn't be right again.
My writing has long been my coping mechanism for struggles both within and without. Even after almost thirty years on this earth and over two decades of expressing myself with the written word I still am not quite sure I've found that perfect place in my writing where I simply know I'm saying what it really is I want to say. Sometimes I wonder if language has built in limitations that will forever frustrate me. But I am confident in my belief that my skills still need considerable sharpening, no matter what praise I may receive for my efforts. Finding that place in my writing where it's always fun is what I'm aiming for in life. The feelings of self doubt and frustration with my inability to write somewhat less than what I feel I'm truly capable of will subside one day I am sure. That place could be right around the corner. Who knows when I'll write the piece that helps me to turn that corner.
Have you found that perfect place in your writing? Does that perfect place even exist? Whatever the case, just write on.