It’s been a while since I’d shared my thoughts on here. I don’t quite know how to explain it–
Well, let’s start with 2016.
Though not without its highlights, 2016 was, for the most part, a spectacular mess. I remember scrolling through newsfeeds and panicking about the horrors going on in Syria. I remember hearing news about Orlando and sitting in the car, numb with shock and thinking, one more reason to not be who I am. I remember spending hot, sweltering summer days making phone calls and handing out flyers for the woman I believed should be president, only to spend November 9th sobbing with classmates as we saw a man who spewed bigoted views get elected to our highest political office.
Personally, 2016 found me in a state I’d never been in before. I was stuck in a state of fear and anxiety. Words were hard to put on the page, and the constant background hum of characters and plots and pages to write had ceased. Having unreservedly charged through things for much of my earlier life, always building a presence for myself, always trying to give myself a platform to stand on, I shrank back this past year. Doubt reigned, and in addition to very personal losses in my family, there was always, always this cynical fear in the back of my head; fear that I wasn’t doing anything productive, fear that I was taking risks that would never pan out.
Then, this November, I watched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
For two hours, I sat in a movie theater, truly spellbound, seeing the magic I’d loved as a child play out before my eyes again. I gasped at the resplendent colors and characters of Newt’s briefcase; I adored the novelty of the story.
I watched J.K. Rowling’s beautiful world she’d created, thinking that despite everything, there was still magic in this world.
The fear receded. I started watching more movies and reaching out more to others. I girded up my political activism; I called representatives and donated and vowed to fight for what I believe in for the next four years. I read Maggie Stiefvater’s wonderful post about choosing to be the hero of your story. And I chose to write again, realizing that, like Elizabeth Gilbert had said in one of her TED talks, the desire to create superseded my fear of failure.
Slowly, I’m finding my way back the thing I love to do. I’m finding my way back to the caffeine-fueled adrenaline of NaNoWriMo, to the home of crinkled pages and the click of keys against the muggy summer rain.
Here’s to hoping that 2017 is a year of intrepid beginnings and sweet resolutions, of courage and moxie and everything in between.