I’ve taken the plunge and joined a writer’s guild. A month and half later, after interacting with other writers, I realize that the childhood dream of writing stories was one that I’d set aside and buried deep in the “maybe someday” box.
But the dream is awakening.
I’m uncovering the treasure box of buried passion and desire to write the stories I believe God has given me.
As I turn on the computer every day, I wonder why it took me so long to get here – to the realization that one of the few things I really love to do and can do is write.
Yet, even as I write that – there is the fear of being exposed – that I’m not really a writer.
And maybe it’s that fear and the deep down belief of that fear that has kept me from ever really starting year after year.
Maybe it’s memories like the one of the small, yellow sticky note that had, “This is terrible” scribbled on it, stuck to the short article I had written in college. I was interning at the alumni magazine and the note was from the senior editor.
Any dreams I might have had of making it as a writer someday went awash. When I saw what others could produce I knew I didn’t stand chance, and while I didn’t quit and my piece eventually got published, I could never shake the doubt that I could really write.
And the thoughts replayed themselves over the years: Who was I kidding? After all, English was my third language. How could I ever fully grasp it to write in it?
A few years ago, I heard a successful, published author say that he became a writer when he told himself that he was a writer, and I thought, ‘Could it be that easy?’
No, it wasn’t but there was truth in what he said. I setup a blog and for the first time in my life, I put “writer” next to my name. That was a start.
Being part of the writer’s guild is teaching me that the craft is not really all about talent – whether you got what it takes to be a writer. In the end, if you never try, you will never know. And as with any craft, the more you do it, the better you become.
The hard part for me is overcoming the negative voices in my head and defying them by turning on the laptop, start pecking on the keyboard and pounding out those stories, thoughts and ideas that have been lying dormant in the “maybe someday” box.
I’m also learning that the fellowship of writers that I’ve found at the guild is inspiring and encouraging. I’m not alone in this journey.
And so here I am — 25 years after that yellow, sticky note incident – finally dusting off this dream and desire to write and I’m daring to try again.