Getting out of your own way and allowing creation to work through you.
I'm trying an experiment with myself.
It's going to be a long term project too.
The aim is to get out of my own way and allow creativity to work through me.
I guess you could say I'm asking God to work through me, to be God's muse.
It's the desire of every writer, even when they don't know it.
Even the most brow-beaten egomaniac, slamming the hell out of their keyboard whilst crafting a thesis demonstrating their own intellectual prowess, is still hoping for that divine inspiration, if nothing else but to be able to claim the credit and bask in the perceived glory of fame.
We've all been guilty at some point of writing that was self-centred and admiring our own brilliance in the process, but it never feels that good for that long.
I want more than that. I want to write truth. Not 'ultimate' truth perhaps but my truth at the very least - the truth that comes through when you can get your ego and pride out of the way and allow something else to occur.
It takes surrender.
Letting go.
Not worrying about the outcome but rather enjoying the process of writing itself, the mystery of words coming together and forming something else that you aren't totally in control of.
Perhaps this is easier to do with fiction, where the imagination and the ability to let go of the ordinary world is a pre-requisite. But, with non-fiction it is that much more challenging because the ego is ever-present, sitting on your shoulder watching every move and muttering and judging, taking a condemning sharp breath in when you commit something down.
You can't deter it though, the ego that is. It takes great pleasure in hacking your attention for better or for worse. So you have to learn to work whilst sitting on each shoulder is either god or the devil. One will deter you with critical scorn and the other will gently and lovingly encourage you onwards. One is the voice of love, the other the cruel tongue of fear.
So, whenever I sit down to write, I'm going to ask God to work through me, for me to be a vessel of love and creativity. And then, in order to facilitate that in the very best way I can I am going to befriend and embrace the hellish voice of doubt, despair and fear and disempower it in that very process, knowing it will continue its relentless cackle, but carrying on writing nevertheless.
I'm hoping I will be able to tell the difference in my work at some point, or at the very least notice something in the writing process.
I don't know to be honest and I'm really happy to have no expectations.
Unlearning feels like the right path.