In the early 20th century, Robert Lewis Stevenson wrote, “The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean.”
Today, I found his wisdom to relate to a “tiff” that happened in the apartment. Although, I would rearrange Stevenson’s eloquence to relate to arguments, instead of literature. The difficulty of conveying your point of view is not to speak, but discovering how you feel. I re-discovered, maybe for the umpteenth time in my life, that I genuinely believe I’m always right. It’s a problem. The repercussion of this pride is the constant struggle to admit even the smallest faults; which ultimately result in hurt feelings when I am, in fact, not correct. As those hurt feelings arise and I close off and am not able to express anything. I don’t exactly know what I feel. The cycle continues.
Details aren’t important, unless the previously stated “ah-ha” moment of mine is absolutely confusing. But, Stevenson had it correct. The difficulty is not actually writing, or conveying your point of view. The difficulty derives from conveying what you mean or discovering how you feel.
In writing one blog a day, I hope to discover my words. I hope to discover my feelings. This won’t be a perfectly themed blog with recipes from a j.crew mother of three who pairs tilapia with organic thyme for an early dinner; but I hope to learn how to write what I mean and write what I feel.
Honesty is the best policy; check it.