It occurred to me the other day that I’m actually allowed to write for the pure joy of writing. For most of my adult life, I’ve had a lot of anxiety around writing. Publication/making a living out of it has always been in the back of my mind. But what if I just start writing because it’s fun? Would easing up on the self-imposed pressure (or the silent yearning) of being a successful writer actually help me write more freely? Why not just do it because I enjoy it and forget about the stakes?
I went to one of those paint and sip events yesterday at a local winery, and experienced one of those rare moments (at least for me) of synchrony; the world and I were riding the same wavelength. I know it sounds trite, but I felt like I was one with the universe for a few hours of pure bliss painting a crappy picture I’ll probably throw away in a few weeks.
I’ve experienced moments like this before: Dancing tipsy at a nightclub, watching a great movie, listening to Nina Simone or Edith Piaf after a breakup, and sometimes, even while writing. I want more moments of blissful synchrony in my life; I want to write for the fun of it, like I did when I was a child.
In other words, everything doesn’t need to be a means to an end.