“Allow yourself the room to fail,” says my screenwriting professor.
"You have to. Just write, write, write. You’ll mess up, it might be bad. But write.”
So I sat in front of a blank screen, with a notebook full of scribbles, but hardly any complete sentences. I typed, then erased; and so forth for about 26 minutes.
I can’t "just write" an entire act of a screenplay. I can’t. I need to know the plot points, the characters, their personality, the setting, etc. You know, the basics. So I sat in front of the laptop for another 34 minutes, trying to figure out my basics.
All I got was a broken dialogue and a description of a bird.
My words weren't matching up, my mind was going delusional. So I gave up for the day, because I was nowhere near where I was supposed to be.
. . . . . . . . .
In a way, I think we all are too scared to write. We rather use a pencil instead of pen, fearing the ink may sink. We rather trace than invent, or copy rather than create.
It's scary TERRIFYING to put yourself out there, to claim an idea or creation, to let the ink become permanent.
It's not longer the way it was in kindergarden, where no matter what you brought for "Show & Tell", everyone would clap.
Ok, you're probably wondering why am I ranting so much on writing. Give me a sec.
What if I took out the word “write” and instead wrote, “live”?
“Live, live, live. You’ll mess up, it’ll be bad. But live.”
Was I not able to write because I didn't have my basics, or because I was too afraid to just let my 'creative juices' flow?
Is perfection something I crave to the point of giving up whenever I don't think I've met the mark?
In our daily lives, are we allowing ourselves the room to fail, to let go of the premises and the fear of messing up, in order to live?
So many times have I seen myself and other people shy away from taking chances. We don't ask the tough questions, we don't say the scary truths. All because we are afraid to fail.
So I guess it just comes down to this: Do I care enough about living to risk the messing up?
I’m not sure yet. But I’ve begun writing.
And though it's complicated and messy, I think I’m falling in love with writing, one word at a time.
I'm probably messing up, it’s probably bad... But I’m writing.
And for some strange reason, the art of writing, little by little, is letting me do the same with life.
