I fear failure. I think most people do. I know that I can write. I know deep down I have this ability to paint a story with words. I know this. But there is still that little voice in the back of my mind that keeps saying: What if you really can’t?
What if all these stories inside my head don’t have a suitable voice? That thought is maddening. And so I procrastinate. I do other things. I jump into video games and television because there I am safe. I’m experiencing other people’s ability to tell stories. I read books because published authors do it so much better than I ever could, right?
But if I don’t write, how will I ever know? But I don’t want to fail. So I don’t write. And eventually all these ideas and stories that I so desperately want to tell fade into monotony.
That’s one of the things this blog is supposed to help, I think. Maybe if I’m writing… It doesn’t matter what something magical will happen. And one morning I’ll wake up and the words will be there and they will be mystical and wondrous and perfect and my stories will have a voice and everyone will read them and love them…
But first, I actually have to write.