SAYING BYEEE TO ZOMBIE NORMALS, SO YOU CAN WRITE

SAYING BYEEE TO ZOMBIE NORMALS, SO YOU CAN WRITE

 
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SAYING BYEEE TO ZOMBIE NORMALS, SO YOU CAN WRITE

Anyone who tells you writing doesn’t require separation hasn’t created from soul.

I would even go so far as to say, that writing requires a death in you. Death of the self that needed to stay so attached, your Inner Creator could never breathe—not for long.

This is a dying of the world around you, the way non-writer “normal” people live, because as much as we love them, the writer in us cannot swim in their energy too long.

Especially if they’re living that zombie-like existence I know rubs your artist soul.

Especially if you once lived even partly in that kind of existence, as I did, working jobs I knew I wasn’t meant to. Giving precious hours of my life to this errand, that random person distraction, this or that paid gig—when I knew none of it was what I was meant to be doing.

Because I am meant to write, as you are.

Sometimes we accidentally create a life that supports, feeds, and upholds the life we were never meant to be living.


I know I sure did !!!!!


We know something smells off in our life, but we keep making all the zombie moves and motions, anyway.

We’re scared.

We’re feeling lonely.

We’re exhausted, and have no idea where to even look for the spot in our lives that’s rotting, let alone uproot, remove, and replace it—but we know we need to. Time is running out. Zombie temptations no longer make you giggle and say, “Silly zombie! That life isn’t for writers! So you’ve got to deal with this, before it really develops a STENCH.

Yet before we know it, we’re in a pickle—more like a whole jar, then we find ourselves being too forceful with ourselves, too aggressive with our writing (we've all been there) and avoiding the meaningful connection with others that even the deepest writers need.

The money solutions get even odder, too, as we run so far into starving artist terror, the one that has killed many a writers dead before they even pick up a pen.

Your death is meant to be different, but you can’t fathom how, you can’t think, either—not in survival mode. Not with with the place you need to be making decisions from: your whole soul.


So you start receiving money to support our isolation.

Whatever that looks like for you.

Mostly, it's not done on purpose. There's little conscious awareness that you're doing it.


But you are.


There you are! Accepting money from this source, or that source, to keep you from facing your fear of connecting, of really plugging into your natural talent, and putting those 10,000 hours of writing, to practice your craft to its ultimate level of mastery.


To keep you from facing your fear of living and breathing and BEING IN YOUR GREATNESS!


*NOTE, BIG NOTE: I am not talking about solititude here, which is a sacred, vibrant, necessary part of our creative process ... it’s different from isolation, and rooted deep in the fear of connecting with other humans, fear that is nine times out of ten, based in trauma, which, until it is resolved, will keep you from dying this death all writers must endure.

That total and complete death of the non-writers world, which you are more than welcome to dance in, visit, love someone in…but live there?

Never.

This is the notion that must die, if you’re to write at the level you know in your bones you’re being called to write at.


This requires you facing your demons down, all of them—the ones based in trauma, and the ones not, so you are resourced enough to write the book, build the empire, lead the life you’re really meant to be living.


It requires halting all investments of time, money, your heart and your energy into toxic constructs that are held up by habits keeping you disconnected, maybe even desperately reaching for numbing habits of the modern world (Netflix, eating, drama addictions, Facebook scrolling, information overload are examples. I’ve been there too!


But how do you wake up enough and get back on track enough to plug into the resourcefulness you need, right?


You get sick of the symptoms of that kind of life.


SO SICK.


Walking around like some kind of zombie person who lost touch with what your Inner Child soul knows so vividly is THE WAY to build the life that would keep you thriving, growing, blooming like the unstoppable mother fucking life force you were born to embody, and be, and inspire others through….all by moving your pen.


Why are you even wondering if you were the one writer who wasn’t given that life force, or the one who lost access to it?


Of course you damn were.


We all were.


Thinking we are different because of what we've been through *believe me I played that tune for over a decade in my life, if not longer* is a recipe for Zombieland.


Falling down, down, down into that life that never feels like yours. No matter how much you want it to be yours, so you can release this torturous inner struggle you’ve experienced your whole damn life, the struggle you’ll do almost anything to escape from. Except the thing you really need to do: let the other die.

The life you only think sometimes, when you’re scared, could be for you.

That life you know damn well will have you waking up, feeling empty, accepting that money from that source that doesn't feel good, yet again, knowing you can't move forward because it's suffocating you by keeping you into old patterns of BEING and living that do not match your true soul. The vibrant writer spirit inside of you that needs you to stop wishing and wanting and running to any of the many types of zombie lifestyles that do not work for you anymore. Haven’t for years, decades. Aren’t working out too well for anybody you know who’s trying it either.

Let it all die, Beautiful.

Let it crash to the ground around you. Then pick up your pen and write yourself back to life like your life depends on it, because it does.

XOXO

Your Book Angel, Gina

#writeordie

Gina Silvestri