in which themes really aren’t my thing

Every October, they pop up. The lovely 31-dayers, with their beautiful words and their respectable consistency, and I think of joining them. Every year, I want to put a few small words out there, give them wings to take up residence beside the words of the ones I would consider great writers.

But every year, I get stuck on the same thing. The whole idea of a theme. I’ve never been very good with themes. Too many things are too terribly interesting and important to me. Which sometimes feels like a lack of focus, mostly because sometimes it is.

This year is more of the same. I’ve tossed around at least ten different themes in the past couple of weeks, and they all hit the walls of my soul and slide off. Nothing sticks, nothing clings to my insides, my ribcage.

But oh, how I want to write these days. I feel all of the things inside of me, scratching and clawing to get out. And if the only thing stopping me from challenging myself to write every day for a month straight is the lack of a theme…well, that’s just silly.

So I, personally, am considering my theme “31 Days of who-the-hell-knows-what.”

It’s slightly less poetic than “31 Days to Listen” or “31 Days to Dream” or “31 Coffee Dates in 31 Days.”

Slightly less poetic, but far more true to where and who I am in this moment.

Because too many things are rattling around these days to pick just one. Maybe that’s why I need to write so much these days. Maybe that’s why I spent half my drive to work yesterday teary-eyed because I just wanted the space to crawl into a quiet part of my soul and put the rest, the part that’s not at all quiet, on paper.

Too many things are too important and too heavy and too possible and too never-gonna-happen and too unknown.

Too much of life is who-the-hell-knows-what.

And so I will write from there, from that place.

It may not be pretty, but it will be honest. And I’m sure it will look a little like healing, in that way that only the ugly, honest things can be.

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3 thoughts on “in which themes really aren’t my thing

  1. Emily Rhea says:

    Oh my freakin word. This is incredibly beatiful. And I can’t wait to read your soul. That’s how I write too. Sometimes the words don’t flow except with a few censored four letter words and lots of tears. Then you wipe the tears and use that pain to empty what is raging in your soul. And somehow, no matter how fast your fingers wrote and no matter how many typos and Unfinished sentences there are, it’s always beautiful. Keep writing. Never stop

  2. Emily Rhea says:

    Oh my freakin word. This is incredibly beautiful. Sometimes in the middle of tears flowing and uttering censored four letter words; that THAT is when your soul gushes of everything you have been wanting to held back. But it breaks walls and then you share it with us, and it inspires me to write too. The broken and messy and heartfelt scripts are always from a messy heart. It’s beautiful.

    • audra hibbs says:

      YES. Yes, exactly this! I often feel like as soon as I stop trying to control my heart and my words, or get beyond the point where I CAN control them…those are the moments when the beautiful, brutal truths pop out. It’s amazing to me how easy it is to tell the difference between me writing and God writing through me. It’s always me at my worst that connect me to the beautiful, messy people around me.

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