Since I was 6 years old, I wanted to write. It started out when I dreamed of creating fictional worlds for people (and myself) to lose themselves in. More recently, I found I also want to write things that inspire people. I want to communicate mind to mind with my reader. To share so clearly a part of myself that it can’t help but spark that inspiration of real connection with another human. That was my purpose in starting this blog.
But I’m afraid. Terrified, actually. The fear eats at me each time I consider putting my writing out there in the world. It’s relentless. It goes like this:
What if I try my very best. Put in all I’ve got. Dig deep, suck it up and leave EVERYTHING on the page…
…and STILL fail…
What if I’m no good at this? What if my struggles and insights don’t help anyone at all? What if I’m just an idiot??
The dream would be shattered.
And this is where I put away the laptop, the notepad, the binder and tell myself, I’ll be a writer someday. Someday, I’ll undertake to begin my true life’s work. Someday, I’ll have the courage to risk the dream. But not today.
Keeping the dream safe. That’s what has mattered. For decades. You see, if I keep my dream locked away in my mind and only bring it out from time to time, just to admire it, dust it off and hold it close for a bit, then I keep it safe. Sure, you may be saying, but then you don’t ever actually get to DO anything, you just think about doing it. I know it. But the instinct to protect the dream is powerful.
It took me twenty-five years to even realize I was doing this, and I’ve spent five more years since then while I vacillated on what to do about it. The irony of refusing to take any action toward making your dream a reality (thus preventing your dream) because you are paralyzed by fear of bungling it (and thus preventing your dream) is not lost on me.
Articulated in this way, it sounds absurd to the point of lunacy. Inaction leads me to exactly the same place as a failed action, except at least with a failed action I would have learned some lesson, even if the lesson was painful.
So what now? Well, I’m doing it. I’m writing. I’ve decided that even if my writing is only ever useful to help me articulate my thoughts, it’s still valuable, at least to me. But I continue to hope for the big dream to come true. The dream where I can reach out across time and space and touch you with words that leave you with a connection or inspiration or insight that you wouldn’t have had without me. The dream where I can help change the world for the better.