I know I am supposed to write. I have literally seen the writing on the wall. Throughout my life, family, friends, random strangers, psychics, and so on have told me to be a writer. I put it off for a long time and then finally picked up the literary sword a few years ago. While I have plied my craft here and there, really just training in that time period, I have come to see how I have a way with words, how I play with words, how there is something crying out to be shared with the world in these words.
And yet, I avoid writing. It’s like a plague. I don’t know why or how I became afraid of a wonderful way to live out a passion but I have become afraid. I am here today to examine why that may be?
Lack of interest… On my part, that of most people I have loved. I used to take great offense that people who I care about didn’t care about my writing. I realize now that I was seeking validation from others when really I am the only one who can truly validate my work. So we’ll scratch lack of interest then…
What to write about… Now sometimes, I have so many ideas, I haven’t an idea where to start. This is certainly a big theme. Yet, I’ve recently begun to keep a log of ideas and have started many of the newer ones. Can’t be this option…
Belief… I’m going to gander that this is the culprit. In the past, it was lack of belief. Belief in myself, belief in what I was about, where I was going, etc. I certainly didn’t believe in the past that I could make it as a writer. I wanted that magical happening to come in and then I would write or go and do something. I guess you could say I wanted the money to come before the work.
I can’t say whether I fully believe that I am to be a writer. I see myself writing, being successful at that while pursuing other dreams. I think writing shall be something that I do. Why? Haven’t figured all that out yet but maybe 20 years from now, I’ll have most of the material down and can write a memoir. Until then, guess you’ll just have to stop by for a reading on the old site or find me in a newspaper, magazine, and/or bookstore.
Oh yeah, since I have an idea of the root of this fear, I’d have to say that it is no longer a challenge and I am not afraid. The wind just gusted. Could it be that the world just shuttered at the thought of a JMAW unafraid of writing and writing to just write. Nah, not fear, love maybe, a bit of finally maybe, but the Universe is surely not afraid of lil ole me.