I've been frustrated with myself recently, because I have ideas for a lot of blog posts and have yet to publish one. I'll wake up in the middle of the night, scribble something in my notebook, and the idea will live and die there.

Creating for the first time is like opening Pandora's box. I wrote, at first, to copy people I found inspiring. Immediately, I felt cleansed. Like Sethe releasing the memory of her slain daughter in Toni Morrison's Beloved, "I trembled like the baptized in its wash." I could take experiences I was excited, embarrassed, or ashamed about and understand them on the page. I grew more powerful. I experienced the release that comes from having an idea and giving it life. When I learned to listen to the Muse, I couldn't stop. The ideas kept coming, and my frustration only grew.

I was rereading a Daniel Bourke post earlier – the eternal pursuit of unhappiness – and I remembered. This frustration is natural and necessary. This frustration is why creating feels amazing. This frustration is the dissonance between what's in my head and what's in the real world. The resolution occurs when I give the idea life, momentary relief before the frustration builds at yet another unfinished project. Art is a gift to the creator – a respite from bad dreams – more so than it is for others. Today, I feel relieved. Tomorrow, I will continue, as troubled as I was the day before.