Ramblings of a Writer

Terrified

What should I write? How do I do it? Fear has taken over my inner wordsmith and I can barely bring myself to test if I can even type. Of course, I am now, and my fingers are tapping happily across the keyboard as if I'd never missed a beat. I feel better already in fact. As you might have guessed, this is not a work of fiction. Perhaps it's not even non-fiction, but I hope that it is me. I hope that you can see some truth in these words and thoughts. Of course, you, the reader, will have to excuse my ramblings. If you're already bored of reading, feel free to leave. I won't be at all offended. I'm merely trying to test the waters and dip a toe into the circle of words once again...

At one time, I wrote every night for two hours. If I missed a beat, I would mentally berate myself for at least the next three days. I was brutal. I was hard. I was mean to myself. Then came the anxiety and the depression and the tears and the loss of love for anything. Fast forward a year or so and my head was back in some kind of semblance and my baby daughter had arrived. She was truly the best little person I had ever met and I whole heartedly dived into motherhood - despite stating many a time that I would never be one of those people who's lives revolved around their baby. I don't regret one moment of it of course and I feel so blessed to have such a beautiful little family. 

However, it's now been two and a half years and my writing practice has been practically non-existent. I miss it. I miss the escapism - but I've feared it. I've feared it BECAUSE I love it. I feared it would consume me like it had before. Not to mention, each time I reached for my computer, I'd have a little person requesting my attention. Every time I told myself I would write once she had gone to bed, I looked at the clock and saw how late it was. I told myself that the manuscript that had been waiting patiently in the corner of my house would no longer be good enough. I told myself it wasn't ready and I couldn't finish it. I told myself that I couldn't write like that any longer. My love, my passion, my words had disappeared. They had gone and I was left with only a husk of doubt and a lost and fading dream to become a writer. Then I remembered that all I had to do to be a writer, was to write. Write. Just write. 

So, instead of opening that dreaded manuscript, that I know needs so much work, or uploading a new chapter of my unfinished Wattpad fiction, I opened a fresh document and decided to dive in. I decided to forget about my fears and just type my truth.