Rusty writing and forgetting my own advice

Every time I come back to write in the garden after some time, I feel rusty, like I forgot how this is done (how I told myself to do it). I accumulate ideas, which pile up as expectations of what I want to share and how I should write it, how to write it in a way that makes sense and is useful for others and not just me. I don't know how to put the ideas into words. No, I don't know how to put them into paragraphs. I have pieces of things I want to say but I don't know how to put them together.

With every post I've written here, there's always been a moment where something clicked (mostly during writing, not before), and I knew what the purpose of the post was. So many times I've written a post already with a title in mind, but the post ended up somewhere else, so I welcomed it and adjusted the title.

I'm sure a writer would have good advice for these struggles, but I also know that this happens because I forget my own advice. Things click when I take the pressure off, when I put those expectations aside and focus on sharing what is in my mind, one thought at a time.

Yesterday, I spent a good part of the day thinking, writing bits of what's been in my mind lately, thinking (or expecting) that I'd have a post by the end of it. Although I took good notes and have more clarity for the next session, that didn't end up happening. Instead, I felt slightly disappointed and called it a day, trusting that that work was still worth something. Then today I woke up and these words started pouring onto the keyboard. And they aren't remotely related to what I wanted to write about yesterday. But that doesn't matter.

The more I write, the easier it is to write again. So any post is welcomed. Any post is a bridge, a way to build momentum. At the same time, it is a building block for future ideas, and well as a useful piece of the garden, because all pieces compound and make sense as part of a whole.