Stirring Point

For the past 52 weeks, I’ve published one essay every Sunday morning. I’ve taken cracks at fiction, travel writing, and personal reflections. Each piece averaged 1000 to 1200 words, bringing the year’s total to approximately 200 pages posted on Stirring Point. I hope that each essay contains—at minimum—a thought or phrase with enough ass behind it to stir the reader into a unique thought.

Of course, when I reread the bulk of these pages, I want to backhand the writer. Early entries are carpet-bombed with adjectives. I’ve misaligned tense agreements and butchered metaphors. Much of my work is overwritten and underwhelming. Don’t get me started on the typos.

Despite the above, I’m proud of this collection. My effort is earnest and I’ve maintained consistency. In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg talks of “owning” a habit by committing fully to a practice and showing up daily to nurture its growth. Like relationships, new hobbies are invigorating and the freshness propels us forward. Over time, the freshness fades, and honeymoon periods draw to a close. That’s when the real work begins. To keep friction with a habit, consistently showing up and putting in the work is key. Sit, write, repeat. Sit, write, repeat. Eventually, the “need” to write replaces the “task” of writing, and this is when ownership starts. You’ve put in the time and now it’s less likely to slip through your fingers. Consistency is the pathway to the Promised Land.

As a “newish” writer, sharing work often feels like a one-man recital performed with an unfamiliar instrument. Cover the wrong hole on the piccolo and you’ve pierced the eardrum of your listener. But there’s something about the instrument and something within us that demands we keep trying. Great writers demonstrate how this art form offers manna to the mind. If their work stands the hair up on the back of our necks, is it possible that we too can do the same for others? Can our effort add a small but meaningful drop into the greater pool of creativity? 

I’m excited for the next year of writing. Growth will be slow and patience is key, but mountains are climbed step by step. I feel the call to chip away at a manuscript I’ve been avoiding and it’s time to give that monster its due. I feel it; I’m ready. On Stirring Point, I’ll continue with my Sunday posts, but I’ll cap them at 500 words, using the format to play with stylistic choices and literary devices. I need to evolve as a writer and this little corner of the internet holds me accountable to do so. 

Many of you have read several of my essays and I’m grateful for your trust. Some of you have read them all. I’ve felt your grace as you’ve fed me encouraging words. Most importantly, you’ve shown me patience as I stumble around, trying to find my footing.

Thank you for spending the last year with me. I’m hopeful you’ll join me for the next one, too.