Grace Wojkiewicz-Wielgus
I remember hearing that writing is a like muscle. I always took that to mean that, like strengthening your body, you need to keep working on your writing for it to improve. The more I thought about it, the more questions I had. Maybe the more you write, the easier it gets? If I don’t use it, will I lose it? Will there come a time where my writing will come to a stop? Do I have a timeline? For years, I worried. Even with that fear haunting my thoughts around writing, the motivation that I’d hoped to stumble upon had so often left me wanting, adding to the cyclical fear that I was going to lose something I wasn’t sure I’d ever had in the first place.
After graduating from UW-Eau Claire, I told myself now was the time to continue the novel I had swirling around my brain. Shortly after I started working my first full-time job, and I felt like I couldn’t spare the time. A few months later I was lucky to unplug and disconnect at the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild’s The Priory Writers Retreat, where, surrounded by so many friendly faces, I found time to continue what I had started. I had set a goal to write for ten minutes a day. Unfortunately, that only lasted a few weeks. I stopped writing again.
A few months later, my boyfriend and I made the decision to move from Eau Claire to Illinois, to help him pursue a different career. I quit my job and gave myself time to figure out what my next steps should be. After taking some time to visit our families back in Wisconsin and then beginning to apply for jobs but having no luck, it felt like nothing was sticking. My boyfriend, and only friend in this new town, was working twelve-hour days, so I was often home alone, cycling between job applications, Netflix, and reading. I felt isolated and lost.
Finally, I hit my breaking point. I wish I could remember what specifically motivated me that day, but I only remember the emotions behind it. If I couldn’t prioritize my writing at that point, when was I going to be able to? I started to do research into different writing methods that had worked for others and stumbled across the website 750Words. It was a place to log in and write 750 words daily, which they claim equals out to about three pages. I remember thinking, there’s no way I can write that much every single day? As someone who wasn’t writing, how was I supposed to commit to that? I researched more but couldn’t find anything that resonated with me like that did. I signed up and wrote my first entry.
“I started off journaling. I wrote about finding the website, how I was feeling, everything. It took some time, but the 750 words came. I was surprised at how much I wanted to keep going.”
I started off journaling. I wrote about finding the website, how I was feeling, everything. It took some time, but the 750 words came. I was surprised at how much I wanted to keep going. There was less pressure because once midnight hit, the page was locked, so I couldn’t go in and change what I had written. I wish I could say that I immediately picked up the habit, but I had a few misses in the first few weeks. My streak would go away, and I would feel defeated at starting over. Still, I was determined to make a new habit that was purely for what I love. I tried again, over and over. Sure, I may have needed to switch the time zone to Hawaiian time to work with my night owl tendencies of writing past midnight, and some days I just recited what I did during the day like a list, but I kept going. I ranted about my life, I mentioned politics, I cursed, I planned lofty goals that haven’t happened and probably never will. On especially hard days, I prefaced my entry by saying I was going to write without stopping and anything that came out was staying.
But I kept going.
A few weeks ago, I hit a full year of daily writing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s something I’ve heard many times before but have struggled to take to heart. A lot of days, after writing my 750 words, I’ve felt inspired to write more. I truly believe that it has gotten easier to convince myself to carve out time. The thing I don’t hear talked about often enough is that it isn’t always that easy. There are times I itch to start writing because I have so much to say, but there are also entries where I’m falling asleep at my keyboard, chicken-pecking away just to get to the count. Since picking up the habit, I’ve also pushed myself to also use NaNoWriMo to write the novel I’ve always wanted, as well as other pieces. I don’t think any of that could’ve been possible if I didn’t prove to myself that I can take that time each day.
It doesn’t always feel easy, but it feels easier most days. And that’s enough to keep me going.