A few years ago, I started to write a book. Or something that might one day turn into a book. But I lost my drive.
Part of it was that I was scared. What if I wrote this thing, and it actually got published, and people I know actually read it, and they thought it was stupid. Or poorly written. Or a waste of their time.
Or worse, what if they read it and thought all of those things, and I didn’t know it?
Writing is scary. Some people write journals. But there’s always that wonder, that fear, that someone might find it one day. Even if you’re writing fiction, or semi-fiction, if you’re not ready for the world to see something and it gets out there? And really, it might.
But who gives a sh*t?
Unfortunately, I do. When I was writing, I was worried all the time that once I was done, people would read it, specifically my friends who I would look to for advice, direction, opinions, and they would think
Stupid.
There’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back.
Who cares?
Why did she write this?
Those are the reactions that would keep me up at night.
Granted, they are different than the reactions that the journal-writer fears, but they are based on the same concept.
Fear that someone is going to read it and see something about me that I don’t want them to see.
But I figure it’s time to get over it. It’s time to bite the proverbial bullet and give myself a kick in the creative ass and see if I can’t get the book done.
Who knows if it will ever go anywhere. And who knows if it’s any good. Or if it will ever be any good. I hope it is. I hope it will be. But I’m never going to find out if it’s good, or stupid, if I don’t do it.
If you’ve read my About, you know this blog was created to give me a little jump start, to get the creative juices going and my fingers moving. Hopefully it will translate into something that looks like, to me anyway, a finished product.
If nothing else, I’ll write more, I’ll think more, I’ll read more. That’s a good thing.
