Writing as remedy
Sarah O’Connor
Staff Reporter
Recently I’ve found myself in a rut. Maybe it’s just me, getting too relaxed during the Christmas break and now unable to find the thinking cap that university life requires. Maybe it’s because I recently turned 20 and am having a minor crisis of leaving my teenage years, one step closer to graduation, one step closer to pure adulthood.
Whatever it is, perhaps even a combination of several, I’ve worried about my writing recently and have had trouble writing in general. I’ve always loved writing. I’ve loved the relief and numbness I get after writing something emotional or personal and the excitement of an idea as it plots its way through my brain. But lately I’ve been letting deadlines creep up and the ideas that swirl around in my brain stay swirling, unable to land on a piece of notebook paper or a word document. Sure, I’ve typed a few meager lines out. But then I stop, read, and let the document lay forgotten in virtual dust.
That’s one of the main reasons I love writing for the Silhouette, it gives me a deadline, a due date, a goal for when I have to have something written by. There’s no time to worry and criticize it, I simply type, edit, send and wait for Thursday when it will be published. There is no alternative; I agreed to have an article in and it must be in or else I screw people over. But lately even this has been a struggle for me.
I started writing for the Silhouette in my first year in hopes I’d gain experience and improve my writing in different sections and forms. I wanted to grow and expand in my writing, but I’m wondering if maybe, like a flower, I’m already grown. I might already fit the pot perfectly; there is no need for transplant when I’m perfect where I am.
Whenever I submit an article I eagerly await for Thursday. As a weekly tradition for myself I always read the Silhouette when it hits newspapers stands where I can read my fellow writers’ pieces and see what the editors’ changes in mine. More often than not I see the beauty they add that I failed to create. And that isn’t a bad thing - that’s an editor’s job, what they’re supposed to do. Still every time I see the edits I see my failure. I see where I lack as a writer.
In these blah moments, I reflect on my goals as a writer for after I graduate. I’ve already succeeded and gone ahead by becoming a staff reporter for the Silhouette. But I can’t help wondering if there’s a point going after my other goals anymore. Perhaps I’ve found my calling, my purpose. Perhaps my voice is meant for the students of McMaster and that’s it. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing for the Silhouette and I’ve learned a lot from it, but I want more.
Despite my blah mood I’m not going to stop writing for the Silhouette. Maybe some of you are happy by this, maybe some of you aren’t. Whatever your wishes, I’m here to stay and will continue pushing my roots, continue trying to grow or at least see if there’s anything worth growing. I’ll keep with my weekly tradition and maybe I’ll jot down those ever swirling thoughts in my brain. Maybe.
