A collage in motion
I can only consider myself a writer when I spend several hours every morning writing. But my life stands in the way. I travel frequently for projects with art institutions around the globe and to visit friends and family. I’d enjoy these trips even more if I didn’t think that every day I don’t write chips away at my being a ‘real’ writer. It makes me feel like someone who writes in a noncommittal way, an amateur, and that goes very much against my determination to fully engage with everything I do.
But I’m starting to realise that it’s the idea of who I think I should be that causes my dilemma. I want to live up to an image I’ve created in my head of how a writer should work. According to that fabrication, a writer should be totally dedicated to his craft with no time left for anything else. But my life is a dynamic movement of so many things, all of which stem from who I am. Writing is one part of that collage in motion.
I wonder if the pressure of being a ‘real’ writer is so strong because no label covers the spirit of all those different activities correctly. Perhaps something in my head tells me to conform to at least one identity, so that my scantily clothed ego has something solid to hold on to. One little label to cover the rest of my naked self.
I want to fully delight in travelling, in meeting new people and catching up with friends. I want to take time to explore other cultures without feeling that I fall short as a writer. So I'm going to think about a different version of this writing life.
Not clinging to a construct of what I should do or who I should be is a good step on my way to relishing life without barriers, least of all self-imposed ones.