Write the Rain

September 20, 2021

Writing takes me a long time. The ideas are there, and getting a first draft down is easy breezy. But then I absolutely agonize over the finished draft – the thing I share. I get bogged down in making what I write juuuuuuuuust the way I want it – in other words, perfect. What if they are terrible? What if they offend someone? What if no one likes them? OR, what if there’s another way to go about it?

I’ve been listening to and reading about creativity and how to nourish it. And I think I have an idea for how to keep the perfectionist who lives inside me, at bay. 

I’m going to write and share one observation each day-ish. It will be something that sparks my fascination, or captures my fancy, or something I’m wrestling with. I’m going to give myself permission for it to be horrible. There’s gonna be some stinkers in there, for sure. And this will be good practice at not being too precious about all that. Wow, that already feels scary. 

I’m hoping this will help loosen me up. To make it fun. Perhaps to even make it easy? Wow, that would be such a kick, eh? 

 So to start this off, here’s the first thing I wrote. It is what convinced me that this experiment might be a good idea.

I’ll set the scene for you…

The other night I woke just after midnight to the heavy rain falling and words dancing around in my head. I decided to get out of bed and write them down. I wrote easily, straight down the page, no stopping to go back and check what was above to figure out what came next. This is NOT my usual way of writing! And, as I wrote, the sound of the rain raged! But when the words stopped flowing, magically, the rain stopped. I was only awake for about 30 minutes. It felt pretty damn special. Here’s what poured out of me.

Write the rain

Pouring rain
I’m awake
Dark middle night
Computer screen light
Huddled under a blanket
Crouched on the floor
Quiet no more

The perfect words in my head
Stop me from sharing what’s in my heart
Gotta be glossy, pure and clean
Smiling, happy so pristine

But the world is messy, fucked up, conflicted
And my heart feels it and doesn’t want to be restricted
Middle of the night words pour from me
They are the rain that falls

Quiet. Perfect, never shared
Skinny curated, and scared

Fuck that
My creativing is bold
My creativity is wild
My creativity is fast and ugly and bright

Words flow out my fingers
They wake me in the dark
Cries of ‘Speak! Release!,’ come fast and without asking permission

Don’t read what’s written, no edits or fixes
Say the words that flow from inside
They aren’t mine
They just flow through me
I am the air the rain drops fall through
I am the gutter that funnels the torrents

Not too precious
Not too perfect
Not overly considered
Not taken too seriously
Just noticed, acknowledged, and shared

There it is
Splashes on the page
That spread, soak in, and eventually evaporate, disappear

Perfection and considering whether it’s good enough, prevents me from creating
But I am a creator
It isn’t a choice
Things appear to me, they call me
I hear them

And now the rain is silent and so are the words.

4 Comments
    1. What a fabulous beginning! Let the words rain down! I love that you found your inspiration in a storm.

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