Writing is easy they said.
Everyone can do it they said.
I mean yes it is true, everyone can write, but not everyone can WRITE.
You just write down your thoughts, your ideas, anything that comes to you mind. That is called brainstorming, thunder-storming, shit-storming, whatever storming you want it to be called. Anything from what you dreamt of, what you had for breakfast, about that jerk that cut you off and almost ran you off the road, or even that black butterfly you saw while walking up the sidewalk. You put it down on paper and ta-da! You’ve written something down.
…what have you written???
Um, well, didn’t you say to write down what’s inside your head? That is what I did, I wrote it all down, everything that passes through my noggin, then add a doodle there and a swirl over there. Fill in the P with my pen. Don’t forget the highlighters! Add a little color there and another pop of color over here. Perfection!
What they don’t say is that once everything is written down, if you are anything like me, all sorts of topics run together on one page. My head is crowded. So many thoughts racing through, sometimes it’s hard to grasp just one. You should see my drafts page. They slip through my fingers or get all jumbled up. So many subjects, so little time, so many choice and infinite topics, random trains of thoughts interrupted by logical facts to be bulldozed down by dad jokes galore.
There is a chance I should be medicated. Or maybe I am a genius, I’ve got the glasses, just need the brains.
(More Polished Section )
Once everything is finally written down, the real work begins. You have to separate it all—carefully, almost surgically—pulling apart the different thoughts, the different directions, and shaping them into their own individual posts. What started as one chaotic stream of ideas becomes several smaller, more focused pieces.
And that? That’s still just the rough draft.
Now comes the expansion. You take those “baby posts” and breathe life into them. Then you add your voice, your tone, your rhythm. You layer in personality—the subtle colors that make your writing yours. This is where it starts to feel less like words on a page and more like something alive.
Then comes the part people really underestimate: proofreading and editing.
Every comma matters. Every sentence gets questioned. You reread it once, twice, ten times—fixing, adjusting, refining. Not to make it perfect, but to make it almost perfect. Because if it becomes too polished, too pristine, you risk losing the very thing that makes it yours.
And sometimes… it’s okay not to.
Sometimes you let a sentence run a little too long. Sometimes you leave a thought a little rough around the edges. Because we are human. We get tired. We get a little lazy. And honestly? That imperfection carries its own kind of truth.
And then, finally, you step back and look at what you’ve created.
Your work of art.
…And you hate it.
So you scrap it, rewrite it, change your mind, and start all over again.
(Polished Part Over)
I love it! Even when it’s frustrating. It’s been a minute since I’ve given myself time to write. Since I’ve allowed myself some time to greet my thoughts and let it all pour out. I needed this outlet, I really did. I love writing, anything and everything.
Even if its painful, profound…truths I barely tell myself, things I can’t yell out. Or even the goofy, playful moments that happen throughout the day. I didn’t realize how much I missed this. Sometimes it’s too much, so overwhelming, so much to remember. That’s what the drafts page is for. I have to write things down, or else I forget with everything else going on inside my head.
It’s a miracle I remember how to drive, tie my shoes or even my own-to-do list…which I really should have written it down. Hmmm, I know I am forgetting something, what could it be? Oh well, maybe I will remember it when the train comes back around, unless it’s derailed by my new reading obsessions. Than, hmm maybe it’s then…welp, Houston we will have a problem.
Ah but for now that is a problem for a later date…maybe.
-Bella Imperia
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