This image was posted on Facebook a while back by someone I know. I saw it, downloaded it, and now it sits in a folder on my computer that I have to open a few dozen times a day. Everytime I do, I look at it and it challenges me. It challenges me in a way that causes me to look at how I feel about my writing ability and why I write at all.
What if I fall? What if I fail? What if I write and no one reads? What if people don’t think I’m worth the time? What if I pour my heart into something and someone else tears it apart? What if…
Maybe it’s just better to never try. Maybe I should just stop attempting to be something that I only think I am. Maybe I should just stop. Maybe I should…
Welcome to my everyday struggle when it comes to writing.
In a nutshell, I am very self-deprecating. I think I got that whole.. ‘be humble’ thing a bit overdone, even though most that know me would think I am just the opposite. What can I say… good mask. As I have said before, I have strong doubts about my writing (nope, not writing this for sympathy, just kind of where my brain is today) and my ability to finish any of the books I have working in my head.
And then there is this. My blog. An attempt at creating habit. Exercising my… talent? Is that too presumptuous? Again, leading around toward my lack of belief in my own abilities. Sorry.. shoveling on… But here, I can write, with some feedback. Here I can let my mind wander. The only restraint being that of my conscience or my perceived response from my audience. Oddly, that has a tendency to really cause me some disconcertion.
But what if I fly? Now there is never a question I ask myself. I wonder why I don’t. But, somewhere along the line, I have decided to trudge along. “Keep writing” I tell myself. Keep loving putting thought to word. Keep on… keeping on. I think that is the resolve I have come down to. Keeping passion alive is a difficult thing, (just ask anyone who has been married for any length of time) and it requires a constant tending to the fire. There are days I really just want to quit, grab my video games and get lost in nothing. But the writing still remains. Burning inside of me to get out. Not a passionate burning felt between two lovers, but more like the burning feeling you get after you have gotten a bad sunburn and for the next several days the stinging that reminds you how stupid you were for not wearing sunscreen.. kind of burn. (rereading that.. think it makes sense).
So, today… I may not be a world-famous author with countless books under my belt. But, I am a far cry closer to that goal then I was a year ago. Because a year ago, I wasn’t even writing.
I’m sure there is a point to this, not sure what it is. Just feeling the need to write some thoughts down. Ramblings, if you will. Maybe you can figure it out (I hate leaving it to you, that just makes my writing feel cheap (it’s ok you interpret it your way, but I should really have a point, and not just ramble)).
So, until next time.
Oh, and don’t forget, I separated my blog a few days ago. All my fiction writing is going over to this site. Please, head over there and if you aren’t already following it, please do. Cause I really want to feel like Sally Fields one day.