When we sit to write anything, we have an expectation of perfection. Two minutes into it, we’re beating ourselves up, convinced what we’re writing is shit. Five minutes in and we’re asking what’s the point? You have nothing to say and no talent!
That’s your brain talking. It has a disorder. It’s worn thing from a lifetime of over-thinking. Unlike your body, it never gets a rest. Even when you’re sleeping, your brain is up, repurposing daily events into dreams. We’ve accepted our consciousness must operate constantly.
What would happen if you shut it down? What if you shut it down and simply regurgitate all the thoughts and emotions that arise onto the page? You don’t rewrite the page. You don’t grammar check it? You do it without judgment. Either before during or after. Tomorrow same thing. Purge. Puke. Vomit. Retch. Upchuck. Choose your synonym!
I don’t want to get woo-woo here, but there’s a place inside you where stories live. Everything you’ve experienced is planted there. Sometimes so deeply rooted you don’t know it’s there until you purge.
You may not realize it, but you purge morning, noon, and night. It’s called talking. You speak and 99.8% you don’t give it a thought. Do the same thing only in front of your computer, or with a tape recorder, on a piece of paper.
Try it for a week. If for no other reason, then to process what’s going on beneath the surface of your daily life. Think of it as creative bulimia.