I want to be a writer. An author. A guy who can spell the word author properly the first time without having the little red line under the word screaming at me, “NO YOU IDIOT THERE IS NO ‘E’ IN IT!”
I type first, think later.
Ultimately that is my goal. My dream. My fantasy. My thing that I fear deep down that will never happen but still have rosy thoughts about while floating on a cloud of cotton candy and listening to Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds play muted in the background. Weird huh? It seems unlikely but I enjoy it even if it is only an escape from monotony.
So I write every day. Well I don’t write every day but I write to have a post every day. I write whenever I have a combination of time, motivation and a clear head. Those three don’t often speak to each other, typically only getting together a couple of days a week to discuss what’s been going on since they last met.
Part of that is my fault. (All of that is my fault?) I don’t set up a nice place to get together, order drinks and pick at nibbley-bits of food. No semi-sunny nook in the corner of a bistro/bedroom/kitchen away from chattering and televisions. I think that would do wonders as when I do write I do it best in complete and utter silence on Sunday’s. Alone. With nobody around and nothing else distracting me (aside from the vastness of the internet).
I write “every day” as a reminder that I do enjoy writing. It seems silly to have to remind myself that I love writing but what are we if we aren’t complicated creatures?
- Extraordinarily insecure
- Descriptors that don’t start with an E or an F
I write every day because I don’t want to stop. I know that I love writing but just because you love something doesn’t mean you hold on to it. Sometimes you love it so much that you let it go.
I love writing, and the idea of being a writer that the fear of not being good enough to be one is enough to not want to write and have it proven.
Of course there are the many people that go on with their motivational speeches saying that you are a writer if you want to be one. Making it seem so simple as if you’ve got faerie dust sprinkled on you and you can now fly. It’s true, to be a writer all you need to do is write. To make it your life, though, isn’t quite the same thing. Perseverance isn’t a readily available pill in the health food section at the grocery store.
I want to be a writer. I want to write books. I want to see my name on a book on the shelf at a bookstore. I’ve got no delusions of being an author on the New York Times best-sellers list, but merely to be able to write for a living instead of doing what I currently do would be a dream come true.
The difficult part is where I fear I’m not good enough. That there are literally millions of people out there who have this same desire who are just as good if not better than me at writing. If I put this fragile idea out there holding all of my insecurities and it gets shoved off of the desk and told no and it shatters I don’t know what would happen. This isn’t to say that I know but don’t want to admit it, I actually don’t know. I’ve never thought about it and never broached the subject. If I’m not good enough to be a writer and have that confirmed with rejection I would be floating in a void. Suspended in nowhere and trudging through nothing.
So it’s easier and more logical to not try. Not trying keeps the idea a possibility even if its so far in the distance I have to squint to see it. If I’m never told no then I still have that escape route to be able to do something I love rather then something I loathe.
But I love to write so I continue to write. I’ve forgotten it at times. It’s slowly built inside of me throughout my life. I’ve written and then stopped, but I’ve always come back to it. Now I write every day to motivate myself. I’m showing myself that I have enough ideas to sustain me as a writer, even if they are only half developed or less.
I write because I love the idea of making new people experience different places. There are alternate realities that need exploring and stories that need continuing. I’ve daydreamed ideas and worlds that will never exist again because I never thought to write them down and make them real. That is something I don’t ever want to lose or forget.
So even with all of this doubt and insecurity I’m going to continue to write. I’ll write poetry and prose. Mythology and Fantasy. Science Fiction and romance. Everything I write will bring me closer to that possibility in the distance so I won’t have to squint quite so hard to see it. If I keep writing every day at least I’ll never stop. Some of it will be good and most of it will be bad, but every once in a while I’ll write something I love. When that happens I’ll be reminded that maybe I am good enough to find myself on a bookshelf some day.