So you’re a writer – or at least you want to be. Your family doesn’t believe you’ll ever finish a book. You wonder if you’ll ever finish that first chapter. But you want to be a writer. Why aren’t you?
I know you’re busy. I know you have people who need your attention. I know writing is tough, that plotlines evaporate, you take false turns and forget where you were going with a scene. I know, because I’m a writer too. This week, I’ve written forty-one pages but there have been more days than not where writing even one page seemed too much. I’m tired. My head hurts. I don’t know where to take the story next. I have all the same difficulties that you do. Guess what? We’re not alone over here.
All the other authors – those masters of words you can never emulate, struggled with finding time, energy, and motivation. Even storylines. So what’s your true reason? Look deeper my friend.
Is it something you fear? It is for me. I fear what people will think of the final product. If they’ll see its darkness more than its light. I fear my sentences won’t carry the weight the story deserves, that my skills are unworthy of telling this tale. I worry no one will buy the book, even though I know I’d still write it if I was the only person left on earth.
Because that’s the story you should tell. The one you’d write knowing no one would ever see. That is your truest tale, your bravest writing, the one that you should share with the world. Because it’s real. It’s true. It’s you.
I believe in you. I believe in your story.