We’ve seen a great deal of methods through which we can all reconnect to those stories of ours. Hours upon hours may drift away while you work toward this goal. Perhaps days…maybe even a month or two. It might–it will–seem like an eternity. There will always be days were it just feels like it’s impossible to reestablish that old bond you had with your story. But that’s were we make the greatest mistake.

It’s not impossible, and it never will be. And when you tell yourself that this is the case, all you do is multiply your suffering tenfold.

Our stories can seem like unreachable goals that have been locked deep within the golden cities of heaven. And we, the authors, but mere humans trying to grasp at the stars with desperate hands. Those pearly gates of heaven, wherein lies that perfect version of your story, forever out of your reach. But when the author looks towards the heavens in search of reaching that story, he loses sight of the world that is before him.

The ground might split beneath his feet, buildings might crumble all around him, and the deathly tides of a flood might threaten to drown him! Yet this author is too caught up with his dreams of a heavenly book. One with no flaws, one that is always a thrill to right, and one that he will never lose passion for. All while the world is torn apart.

But what the author is to do is not just to turn their eyes away from the heavens and attend to the matters of the earth. The author may yet look to the sky, but rather than judging the world based on an ideal, he should seek to mold the world that lies before him into as close an image as that of his dream. Bearing the glistening glory of heaven in his mind, he should use it as an inspiration rather than a detractor.

He should fasten the plates of earth that have split under him so that they may near the perfection of the heavens, he should take up the hammer and rebuild those fallen structures brick by brick, and he should build the dams that will prevent future floods with the image of heaven’s security fresh in his mind.

The goal of writing advice should not just be to disillusion the author, nor is it to tell him that his desired work is impossible. For the Creative Schism cracks in both ways, not just by looking toward the ideal.

When you remove the ideal, you crumble the foundation of hope that the author has placed into his own work. You strip away that finish line which marks the end of the race, and all of a sudden writing feels aimless. And aimlessness only serves to perpetuate the Creative Schism.

I hope that if there is anything you can take away from this past series of posts, it’s that that feeling you had when you first started writing can happen to you again. But I won’t tell you to expect an easy journey to get to that point of crossing divide instantly. It’s a treacherous, painful journey, which is why I gave you tools to facilitate it.

You must not look into the darkness of the chasm that stands between you and dread venturing into it. With all of these gifts, your sure to make it out. If not today, then tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, the day after that.

This has been the QuestingAuthor. We have Mended the Schism, my friends.

Posts in the Series:

Mending the Schism I: Partake in a Visual Medium

Mending the Schism II: Read Your Past

Mending the Schism III: It’s not a Lonely Road

Mending the Schism IV: A Song or Two Helps