On Writing and my Introspection Journey

I decided this year to pursue writing as a career.

I thought the main challenge with such a declaration would be the up and coming rival of artificial intelligence softwares but it turned out to be much worse. What I did not realize about my goal is that I would have to embark on a harrowing introspection journey that would take me to the very edge of my self concept.

For the past several years, writing for public consumption has not come easy to me. I did not find it difficult because of syntax, spelling, or in organizing my thoughts. It was difficult because, on a psychological level, there was this immense resistance to the blank page–writer’s block, as it were. I did not know what to say. I wrestled with the possibility that I had nothing to contribute at all or that, if I did, that it did not matter. But I knew this could not be true because I still had this implacable desire to write. 

The written word, ever since childhood, was my primary mode of emotional expression. It is the main modality of my introspection. It was a bit confounding then that I could write endlessly in a journal, but when it came time to write words that I would share with others, the well would always mysteriously run dry. As I began to look into the matter and other challenges troubling me at the time, I learned that my “writer’s block” was a strain born of repressed emotions and unaddressed trauma. In order to free myself, I would have to uproot the very cause of why I was chronically stalled at the page. The caveat, however, is that roots are interconnected–if you pull up one, you must pull out the others. 

What I have found in my journey is that my healing has begun to engender new thoughts, ideas, and ways of seeing the world. I had not realized how stale my perception of myself and the world had become until I was forced to tear it down piece by piece. The books I read, the videos essays I watch, the vulnerable conversations I have with family and friends, fertilizes the mind for new ways of thinking and being. Suddenly, I began to have more novel ideas–ideas that are exciting and that I want to share. Now, even in the context of public consumption and perception (and all that comes with it), the blank page feels less daunting day by day. 

I do not believe that by going on this introspection journey that I will reach a sort of writing nirvana in which I will never strain again at the blank page. I expect my goal of pursuing writing as a living to be a challenge. Any worthy pursuit is more satisfying that way. But I am excited at the freedom that will result in healing from the subconscious sabotage, repression, and trauma that has prevented me thus far. It will be one less thing for me to have to contend with. 

By the end of the year, I will be making money as a writer. And I will do so, dharmically, by sharing the lessons, thoughts, and ideas I gain from embracing the ups and downs of my introspection journey–the books I read, the friends I make, and the wisdom I gain along the way. You are invited to join me. And I would recommend that you do so with a goal of your own in mind. We’ll do it together.

The Ibis Letter