“When we were children, we used to think
that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable.
But to grow up is to accept vulnerability…
To be alive is to be vulnerable.”
Autumn is the season where changes happen for me. It’s the time of the year where some level of introspection is taking place and when I try to peel out the layers I have accumulated throughout the year. A re-focusing of sorts, as if I was a captain at the helm of my ship readjusting the direction of my sails in order to catch a better wind.
Looking back I have been able to understand that NaNoWriMo is serving its purpose, having me write daily (exception made of this past three days). The book I have always had in my heart is slowly being written. However I am now arriving at a place in my novel where the characters are guiding me to be vulnerable. I feel like the maple tree on my neighbour’s yard, the strong wind has left me bare and exposed. The words laying on the blank page are slowly taking me to a place where I did not know I was going. I have a strong urge to hold back and at the same time I can’t help but going forward. Confusion and frustration are now adding themselves to the usual doubt I often feel about my written work.
Does this make any sense to anyone?