"Real" Writers
I have a confession. Many, many months ago Dave graciously invited me to become a member of this blog. I'm sure no one really knows that given the fact that I have never written a post here. The thought has crossed my mind several times, especially when I repeatedly open up my blogging dashboard and see the blog sitting there. It always fills me with a twinge of guilt when I pass by day after day and tell myself I'll do it another time.
I realized this morning the reason has simply been intimidation, fear if you will. I write a lot about fear and believe it is the single biggest barrier we face to realizing our full potential. So I am biting the bullet so to speak, and am writing a first post here. Perhaps you are asking why it is I am fearful? Because I have convinced myself I am not a "real" writer and have no business nosing around in a writer's blog.
Then I started thinking (yes, that dreaded thinking that gets me into trouble time and time again). What is a "real" writer? Does a "real" writer write fiction? Poetry? Nonfiction? Children's books? Does a "real" writer flawlessly execute the rules of grammar and create sentences that would make any college professor grin from ear to ear? Does a "real" writer have a vocabulary that creates music with their words and impresses readers with the breadth of their knowledge? Does a "real" writer write sentences that are complex and deep, conveying their stellar intellect with stunning clarity? Does a "real" writer have to be published?
I suppose all of these things do make "real" writers. But what of those who simply write because it is what they love to do most in the world? What of those whose writing may never be deemed publication material by those who have been given the power to make those decisions? What about those who can sit and write for hours and feel as though it has been merely minutes because the mere act of writing has brought them to a place of ecstatic engagement? What about those who can't wait for the next opportunity to sit and write, and practically ignore everything else they "should" be doing because their desire is to simply write? Are those individuals not "real" writers? What exactly makes a "real" writer? Who deserves the title and who gets to decide?
I guess I had already decided that I wasn't a "real" writer, and so nothing I could produce from the stream of my consciousness could ever be worth reading by anyone else. In fact, my blog is called Seawave's Soliloquy because I never actually believed anyone would want to read what I write.
So anyway, I have overcome the fear and have written a post here. Nothing particularly profound or helpful, but I do thank you for your patience and indulgence. Let me just give a final note of encouragement to those I have seen post here. In my eyes, each of you is a "real" writer.
I realized this morning the reason has simply been intimidation, fear if you will. I write a lot about fear and believe it is the single biggest barrier we face to realizing our full potential. So I am biting the bullet so to speak, and am writing a first post here. Perhaps you are asking why it is I am fearful? Because I have convinced myself I am not a "real" writer and have no business nosing around in a writer's blog.
Then I started thinking (yes, that dreaded thinking that gets me into trouble time and time again). What is a "real" writer? Does a "real" writer write fiction? Poetry? Nonfiction? Children's books? Does a "real" writer flawlessly execute the rules of grammar and create sentences that would make any college professor grin from ear to ear? Does a "real" writer have a vocabulary that creates music with their words and impresses readers with the breadth of their knowledge? Does a "real" writer write sentences that are complex and deep, conveying their stellar intellect with stunning clarity? Does a "real" writer have to be published?
I suppose all of these things do make "real" writers. But what of those who simply write because it is what they love to do most in the world? What of those whose writing may never be deemed publication material by those who have been given the power to make those decisions? What about those who can sit and write for hours and feel as though it has been merely minutes because the mere act of writing has brought them to a place of ecstatic engagement? What about those who can't wait for the next opportunity to sit and write, and practically ignore everything else they "should" be doing because their desire is to simply write? Are those individuals not "real" writers? What exactly makes a "real" writer? Who deserves the title and who gets to decide?
I guess I had already decided that I wasn't a "real" writer, and so nothing I could produce from the stream of my consciousness could ever be worth reading by anyone else. In fact, my blog is called Seawave's Soliloquy because I never actually believed anyone would want to read what I write.
So anyway, I have overcome the fear and have written a post here. Nothing particularly profound or helpful, but I do thank you for your patience and indulgence. Let me just give a final note of encouragement to those I have seen post here. In my eyes, each of you is a "real" writer.