What Hitting my Head Taught me About Writing

Has this ever happened to you?

We just finished dinner. The sun was shining behind the leaves making the blow green in the twilight. The day's wind had already died down like a ceasing breath, a calm before tomorrows exhale.

The world was calling for my kids and me to take a walk.

Both kids were pleased not to head home already. My two-year-old may have shouted, "woohoo," in her precious high-pitched voice and clutched her doll. We walked past a fenced-off construction area, noting the tractors and dirt piles until we reached the picturesque grass area. We sat on a bench for about two seconds before they kiddos were running again.

My daughter set her doll on a well with potted plants in it and ran off. I reached to grab the doll before chasing her through the lawn.

And it happened.

The well had a quaint wooden roof and that roof, oh let me tell you, that roof had a sharp corner and it hurt as it sliced and bruised my forehead. I made a strange sound, a mix between a groan and shriek, clutched my head and chased my daughter.

Yes, there was a little blood.

Yes, it hurt.

Yes, we went home to bandage and disinfect the skin. My daughter said I was, "Scary."

So, I'm sure you never had exactly this happen, but you have hit or bumped your head before.

But, though I have a goose egg that's still tender as I write, I can say I learned something from this pain. Something about writing.



Goose Eggs and Declarations

You're a writer, right?

Or, at least, you're thinking about it. Maybe you want to write and the change the world, or simply to entertain readers. Hey, maybe you want to be J.K. Rowling or purely have a love for words. ​

But have you done this yet?

According to a lovely article on The Write Practice, there are seven stages of writing, the first of which is keeping your writing to yourself. You write when no one can see you and the idea of someone seeing your words makes you cringe. What would they think? How pretentious that you could even think you could write?

I felt this way once as well.

Don't beat yourself up. Shush your inner critic and, eventually, you will want people to read your work and lead up to one moment.

That grand moment when you finally call yourself a writer.

Don't beat yourself up. Shush your inner critic and declare yourself a writer. You deserve it.

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How Writing is Like Hitting Your Head

1. There Will be Blood

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemingway


Hitting my head was painful. Writing, at times, is excruciating. The wound let out a couple of crimsons drops. And like Hemingway said, to write you must simply sit and bleed.

Yesterday, I was certainly prepared for writing.

2. Harry Potter

I was marked (thankfully temporarily.) When I first started writing, I felt like it changed me. I see the world in terms of beautiful sentences and moments or views that can be painted into words.

Like the new mark on my head (covered by my bangs, ha), I felt marked by the words I wrote, though no one else could see I was different.

3. Admission

Just like the first stage of writing, I didn't want anyone to know about the ugly bruise and bump hidden beneath my bangs. I have been shy about it. But, one day, someone is going to notice, whether it's from arranging it in a different style or my daughter messing with my hair in front of others at lunch.

The truth will come out. I might as well just let people know.

Maybe they'll be like my husband was when he saw my 'boo-boo'. Sweet and caring.

Call to Action

My challenge to you is to let others know you're a writer, even if you're not ready to share your words and drafts with us just yet.

You may be surprised by people's reactions.

Not ready to share with your friends or family just yet? That's okay! You can join the Facebook group (click here to join) and proudly post to other writer moms like you there. Admitting you're a writer may be painful or embarrsing (like hitting your head). I get that. We understand.

But, hey, it's better than a goose egg for all to see.

Good luck!

And keep writing away, Mommy.

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