Jeremy C Kester

An Essay

I sit here wondering how I got here, wishing I could turn this restless energy into a story, into words. Yet, throughout the weeks and months lately, the very idea of writing became a chore. It became a burden, one I couldn’t seem to overcome every time I went to do the very thing I yearned to do.

Let’s be clear, when you are a creative person — a writer, a painter, a woodcarver — you crave the very act itself. You need to do it; not unlike the need to eat or drink, more spiritual in a way, it remains as necessary. Rot and despair follow otherwise, only serving to further spin the doom loop.

Often I sit and think of what can be done to overcome this idleness, this aversion to do the thing needed to survive. Should I listen to music, watch a movie, scroll through social media (a bad idea even if the intention is to focus on the works of other creatives), read, or something else to spur on the creative drive? Maybe I can drink a few beers to loosen that critical voice normally behind the decisions to hide my work from the world?

The things done to activate some sort of motivation never quite work. Motivation comes and goes without so much as a “hello” or “goodbye”, usually when it is impossible to take advantage or its energy. And right when the ass hits the chair and the writing tools come out, it vanishes.

In truth, I know I need something else, though I fight that idea more than anything else. It’s the same reason we reach for weight loss drugs rather than hitting the gym and controlling our diet — if the funny little short-cut of a hack works, then we saved so much effort!

Oh! The time wasted here. I’ve wasted plenty.

Since last year I started running. And then this year I added in daily workout routines. I controlled my eating, focused my effort and lo! I lost weight and am possibly in the best shape of my life. In this effort, a thought also occurred to me: we become better at that which we put the effort to practice.

I don’t know if that’s an idea or a quote or whatever. It doesn’t matter as numerous philosophers, religions, and self-help gurus say something similar. I need to practice. If I was to become a better writer, then writing must be done. How is it done? Practice. Discipline. Routine. Much like my new fitness life, writing must be treated the same.

What do I write? Doesn’t matter. Sit and do the work.

Is it good? Doesn’t matter. Sit and do the work.

Fear and doubt can easily kill “good enough”, but even more so, lack of trying is the absolution of it. Without effort, nothing will ever happen.

So I sit here, keys under fingertips, writing whatever it is I need to. To loosen the gears of creativity. To put the effort in. To practice. To create. To fucking do the work.

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Photo and words copyright © 2025 by Jeremy C Kester – all rights reserved.
Note: this is also cross-posted to Poetically Unlicensed on Substack.