I have no idea what’s going to happen after I post this. Whether it’s good, bad, or the ramblings of an idiot. I just opened a word doc and wrote what was on my brain at the time. Not even sure if it’s worthy of critique. But what the hell. Might as well see what happens.
Fears of a Newbie Writer
I’m scared of trying to be a writer.
I’m scared cause I don’t always believe in myself.
I’m scared cause I don’t know if I’m even educated enough to write.
I’m scared cause I don’t want to form an ego.
I’m scared cause part of me wants too, but another doesn’t.
One who wants to create grand new worlds
Or simple seniors and see where things go.
The other wants to just hide.
To look at the others above, and how I’ll never reach them.
I love stories. Love, Love, Love them.
In all shapes from text to screen, to computer.
With the right words, in the right order,
You can convey an idea that can open a persons mind.
That happen to me when George was talking about the rabbits.
A man trying to preserve the written word in a society that burns them
When a young boy living under the stairs learned he was capable to do great things
When an otter discovers his true sexuality.
When I think about them, my soul fills with hope.
These stories informed me
Mold me, and even saved me.
A spark begins to light up
Yes I can write like them.
With the right amount of time and perseverance
I too can write not only a story to entertain,
But maybe a story that inspires another to write as well.
Soon my mind is following with ideas
What to write? What the write?
But then the doubt comes in again.
The shadow whispering in my ear that I’m not worthy.
Wrong education, wrong ideas, wrong person.
How dare I think I can be something great?
Even writing this will be seen as nothing more then a cry for help.
A cry from a weak, pathetic, sad man with no time to commit.
Who wants to write about fluffy animals.
And sometimes the shadow wins.
It makes me push those thoughts away.
Got to think partially
And a storyteller is anything, but practical.
And yet, here I am.
Still writing away.
I can’t stop.
I don’t want to stop.
I just opened up a word doc and wanted to voice out my doubts in my head
To question myself if this is something I truly want.
Then the spark lights up again
Blowing away the shadow and the words come flying out again.
I’ll always be scared.
But that’s not going to stop me.
I want to be a writer.
I AM A WRITER
Whether I’m good or bad only time will tell.
Till then I fill the pages with words
And who knows, maybe someone will like them.