Self-efficacy because

I like saying that word and because I fear I am in a rut.

Definition according to math studio: a belief about what one can learn to do.  It is not the same as knowing what to do.

I also wrote down this in my notebook: a generative capacity to carry one's plans through to completion.

I'm stuck, and I fear I don't have any self-efficacy about my writing.  I've been dawdling over this one poem for a month.  I'm stuck still in trying to write in meter and rhyme.  Maybe because it is so difficult for me that I don't even sit down to try?  Yet if I try free verse it feels like cheating now.  Because it is too easy?

For awhile pastor's sermons were inspiring me.  For awhile the old fame was sparking some pretty good stuff.  I went into childhood memories, and that was inspiring.  Now none of them seem to appeal to me.  Yet I know that a writer writes whether they are inspired or not.  There is no excuse like the "muse' deserted me.  Dr. Daniel cured me of that myth.  So why won't anything come or where did my perseverance go?

In one of my counseling sessions I asked why am I having dreams about my old boyfriend.  There seems to be no rhyme or reason for when the dreams occur.  They haunt me.  She told me she believes it represents the creative part of me.  That he is a symbol?  A metaphor for my creative part of me? The dreams represent the creative part of me that has been held hostage for so many years.  She believes it's time to let that part of me out again.  Get involved in theatre again.  Do something with my writing.  Baby steps.

This appeals to me.  It also wars against the parts of me that still feel insecure about my creativity.  To be creative and act upon it means rejection also.  That scares me.  I do too much comparing of myself to others which paralyzes me.  That could be the freeze dried part of my brain.

I think the other part of it is my job.  It is so demanding and keeps getting more demanding.  I allow the job to dictate my life so I don't take time to write anymore.  I HATE THIS!  I want my job, and I want my life.  It should not be so all consuming.

This weekend I left my writing notebook in my classroom and I did not want to go back for it.  I dug out one of my old ones that still had some blank pages in it.  The notebook was from last summer and had several of my poems and drafts in them.  I read them with wonder and appreciation.  The passion was blazing.  The imagery was powerful and compelling. 

 It made me realize what a hole I am in right now. I go weeks without blogging or writing anything.  I still spend a wee bit of time on Saturdays at Starbucks writing, but I only allow myself about 30 minutes.  Because of how much time I spend on my job, my days off are filled with desperate feeling errands that only allow for limited free choice.  I squeeze in my writing.

I felt so frustrated this last Saturday because I sat there and could not think of anything I wanted to write.  So I wrote prose just trying to stir up some saliva in my brain to jump start something.  Blah.  Nothing came of it.

Today sitting in church I read some more of my notes, and I came across a page from a counseling session.  I started to fashion a rhyme around the words.  I came up with a verse.  My mind was engaged with the word choices and what I was trying to convey.  It felt good.

This afternoon I sat in front of Starbucks with Queenie and tried to finish it.  Blah.  So I have been musing about what is going on in my brain.  Metacognition. " I think I can think about thinking."

What I am writing now is the result of my reflecting upon my writing.  Maybe I should try writing prose for awhile.  I need to stop comparing myself to others.  I need to stop thinking that I am too old to even try to get publish and that the train has passed me by.  I need to take the risks of rejection and fulfill the creative part of me.  I cannot accept that I am no good at this and should just give it up.  I cannot go back to the dry desert of my marriage where I chose to give up my creativity to stay married to a man who could not appreciate that part of me.

I need my self-efficacy back!

Self- efficacy

My negativity follows

a labyrinth, a beast

of reinforcement, swallows

the blood, the flesh, in a feast

of high doubt, hate, and deflection,

of a righteous, complimentary thing.

The path betrays correction,

I push on just to feel the sting.

http://basicallybarb.blogspot.com/2012/06/debris-by-wind-another-try.html

The one I found in my notebook.