A lot of my job is writing copy, blog posts, web pages, etcetcetcetc for clients. Sometimes, I'm in the zone, and the words come at least somewhat freely. This week, though, it's felt so unnatural. It's like I have my head in a sack, smashing at the keyboard with big fur mittens on, trying to piece together phrases that resemble something with meaning. Trying to think beyond getting words on a page (screen) to what the actual purpose of what I'm doing is – what feeling or action the words I'm putting down are meant to inspire – is like looking at the ocean and thinking, "Okay, now I have to swim across this thing."
It's not pretty.
And switching gears to my own creative pursuits is a whole other ordeal. How do I write/paint/create like myself when I come home not feeling like myself?
I'm writing this post because I came across the page in the image above in one of my sketchbooks tonight. It made me smile and it challenged me to write something in a voice I can call my own.
It made me feel alive to read those words I wrote last year. To be reminded of the voice I want, coming from my throat, coming from my hands. To come face to face with a guide I laid out for myself before I knew I needed it. To read something so simple and honest that resonates with me now maybe more so than it did when I wrote it. Even just the fact that I was affected by something small I made months ago means a lot today.
Clients may not want a voice that's tart or deep pink. But I do, and if I want to keep it, I have to keep flexing it.