This terrifies me.
If I’m going to somehow make a life for myself that involves writing, shouldn’t I be able to do it all the time? Shouldn’t I be overcome with inspiration and motivation to work at every possible moment? Does this hesitation and lack of ambition mean I’m on the wrong path?
For two full days I sat and stared at this screen, words refusing to come together in a meaningful fashion. I tried everything. I went for a walk, I tried to meditate – I even braved weekend traffic to head to the beach. No matter what I wrote, they were just words. They held no meaning, expressed no emotion.
For two full days I was not a writer. Maybe I never was.
For someone who has quit her corporate gig to pursue a “passion” for writing, I seemed to be in little supply of the stuff.
I often feel like I made a mistake. Like I’m not supposed to do this. Yet, here I am, writing this post. It’s not going to win any awards, but I wrote something, and I think that counts.
Writing and posting pretty much anything scares me, but not writing scares me even more.
To be continued….
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