Living in Fear

What are your innermost thoughts and dreams?  In a perfect world, what would you be doing?  For me, the answer has always been writing.  I’ve been writing short stories and poetry since I was in elementary school.  I still have my first story, “Flowger, the Talking Ant”, written and illustrated by yours truly. Whenever I close my eyes and picture myself in the future, I’m always an author.  Always.

I started working on my first manuscript when I was a junior in college.   The average novel ranges anywhere from 45,000 to 150,000 words.  My manuscript languishes at around 14, 500 words.  Since beginning that manuscript, I have dropped it and come back numerous times.  I’ve also started work on at least 4 other manuscripts. 

So, it begs the question, why don’t I finish any of them and attempt to get published?  Like so many other things in my life, the reasons are varied and intertwined with emotion.  But boiled down to the simplest reason, I don’t pursue what I love because I live in fear.

I fear that I’m simply not talented enough.  When I was eleven, I showed someone I trusted, an adult, the beginning of a short story that I was working on.  I was hurt when my paper was returned to me and the person said, with a disgusted look on his/her face, “It needs a lot of work.”  I was crushed.  There was nothing positive said.  Even the person’s body language suggested there was nothing I was doing right, nothing worthy of praise or celebration.  I stopped writing for a period of time.  If this person thought my work stank, then I had no business writing.

Although I fully understand that I’m an adult and have the capability to put that instance behind me, it still haunts me.  I still hear the inner critic that whispers to me that I have no talent and I am wasting time.  Even now, when I am publishing articles at examiner and my own thoughts on this blog, I am scared by the possible reaction, especially as I am posting my own creative works here.  I crave positive feedback, while realizing I will never fully believe the good things people have to say about my work.

Being a writer has always been my ace in the hole.  It is the fantasy that I believe will cure all the ills in my life.  We aren’t making enough money? No problem! I’ll finish and publish my book and that won’t be an issue any more.  It’s my panacea for what’s ailing in my life.  If I actually finish my book and try to publish it, I’ll have to face the reality that either I’m not talented enough to be published or that even if I am, it will far from solve the problems in my life. 

I am making headway.  I am writing almost daily now.  I am publishing articles on examiner; I am posting my thoughts here.  I’m also tweaking my definition of success.  I may never be able to make a living with my writing, but I hope I am making a difference and touching a life here and there.  Knowing that there are people who look forward to reading my next article has been a salve on my wounded confidence.  I appreciate you all more than you know. 

Thanks for reading.