In fact, over the last year, I've had so many epiphanies. About myself. My writing. My universe. My characters. Inspiration is flowing. Connections are forming, coming into focus, clicking into place. Creativity has become a magical act for me again. It's an adventure. Exciting, joyful. With pleasant surprises around every corner.
So, I should be happy, right? I should trust that this resurgence of creativity means I'm on the right path. That I was radically reborn a year ago when I posted that Taylor Swift quote. Or maybe in September when I got a huge burst of inspiration, connecting many parts of important and meaningful stories. I've had moments of pure awe at the waves of inspiration when they hit, one after another, with a flurry of emotion and "rightness".
But I'm also afraid. I've had few happy times in my life where I wasn't questioning why things were actually going well. Or if I even deserved it. These bursts of inspiration feel magical, miraculous almost. They have me rushing to write expansive notes, pieces of dialogue, or even small scenes. There isn't time to stop and doubt myself. In the moment, I just trust whatever force is delivering these insights.
But eventually, I have to go back to (at least sometimes) writing without that sudden certainty. I have to learn to trust myself by choice if I ever want to write another full novel. I feel close to returning to Book Three and my other unfinished projects. But I'm scared I'll slip back into old patterns. That the pressure will make it hard to trust myself and my own unique process.
I do think had a rebirth last year, but it wasn't all in one moment. It's been slower, as is common with me, with many moments of uncertainty. I'm nervously growing in my ashes, still sitting with the somewhat uncomfortable death of what was before.